Broken Pieces
by Pokiepup
Summary: Things are never black and white in love and war, they're even sketchier between justice and revenge. AU Fic, told in POV COMPLETE
1. Prologue: Lull

_**A.N.** Here we go, another attempt at an AU. This is something which is a even further from my comfort zone but testing ones limits is what writing is all about. Thank you in advanced for giving this a try, and a huge thank you to InevitablyWicked19, for all you do. _

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><p><strong><em><span>Prologue<span>_**_**: Lull**_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

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_**Tuesday—8:56 a.m.**_

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"Will you state your name for the court?"

I know his voice, I know it well enough to pick up on every variation of tone he has. I know that despite the way he is keeping his back stiff, chin tightened and his tone as professional as the best of them, there is a slight softness around the edges on the tail end of his question. I know that despite his enormous amount of respect for me, in this moment there is merely only pity to be found. I know that no matter how many times we've practiced this over the past months, it all suddenly means nothing in this moment.

But most importantly, what I know is that standing in front of me is no longer the man I've built a personal relationship with. No longer is he the man I argue with about basketball and the stupidity of criminals. No longer is he the man I see several times a month to grab a beer and pretend I have an actual social life outside of my work. No, now he is merely A.D.A. Dyson A. Thornwood.

There can't be an emotional attachment here, not now.

"Doctor Lauren Lewis." My answer followed by a slight sigh, eyes on my neatly folded hands resting atop my lap.

"Objection." Evony lets out in a slight snort. She leans back in her chair, brow furrowed looking up at the judge.

"You're objecting to her name?" Judge Asher chuckles, seemingly once again amused by Evony's cheap and distasteful tactics.

"She is a material witness, not an expert witness. By stating she is a doctor the jury has no choice but to endow her with a certain level of excess credibility. Not to mention, she was not actually a doctor at the time in question."

"Are you questioning the witness' credibility?" Dyson's antagonistically playful tone accompanied by a smirk as he turns his head just enough to face her.

"That's enough. Objection overruled and Mrs. Morgan, I've warned you."

It doesn't matter, she's gotten her point across. She's reminded them I'm not an expert, and I certainly wasn't at the time of what happened. She's managed to irritate me to the point that I've forgotten half of what had been written on my note cards. On top of that, perhaps the most damaging thing she managed to do is show them the smug side of Dyson. No longer is he the visually pleasing, sweet but stern crusader for justice. Now he's the smug asshole who gets off on winning over a woman.

Nicely done, Evony.

I'm not surprised though, it's been a while since she had pulled anything, may as well have been with me on the stand.

"Do you mind telling the jury why in fact you are a material witness?"

"I um," I can't help but trail off, my mind drawing nothing but a blank. "I was present."

"Present when?"

"At the time of the crimes."

"And by crimes you mean?"

"The several laws broken on the morning of October thirty-first, two thousand and ten." My attention snaps to him just in time to catch the ever so subtle nod he's giving me.

He wants me to focus, to stay on track and remember everything we've walked through but my grasp is slowly slipping. It's one thing to watch as a spectator, to see those three animals sitting there and never get more than a glimpse of the side of their faces. It's another thing entirely to sit here and have them staring at me. A faint smirk and silent laughter I can see in their eyes from here every time I hesitate.

"And why were you there?"

"I was making a deposit for my father, we were running errands."

"We? You and your father?"

"With my brother, yes." I nod.

"Were they in the bank with you?"

"No, not initially." This time I shake my head, my chest steadily growing heavier and heavier with each breath drawn.

"Not initially?"

"No." another shake of my head, my tone growing harsher. I know he's only doing his job, but the closer he goes to bringing me back to that morning, the more I feel myself slipping. "My brother never entered the bank, my father-my father did though."

"Okay." He says softly, nodding his head as he slips his hands in his pockets. "I can see, everyone can see that talking about this, it's difficult for you. I know why, these three men and their lawyer know why. Hell even the jury knows the cold, hard facts of why, but I'm going to ask you to do what I'm sure you feel is impossible. I'm going to ask you to make us, to make them understand the terror that happened that morning."

He wants me to make them understand-how?

Swallowing at the dryness creeping up the back of my throat I look over, I think I meant to look at Evony but find myself staring at the oldest of the Wright brothers. Maybe it's because he's leaning over with a smirk whispering in her ear. Or maybe it's because I simply want to know what a real monster looks like when not cowering behind a mask.

Bryan Wright, the oldest of them all. By looking at him it would be easy for one to think he was an extra from American History X. A six foot tall lean and pale hardened looking man with tattoos covering the entirety of his arms and neck. His hair cut short on the sides while longer atop, and died a shade of blonde that was easy to tell was unnatural.

Sad part is that if he was in fact a new age Nazi it would have been easier to convict. A tactic Dyson planned to exploit, only problem with a morally questionable yet perfect plan? His brother was bi-racial.

Taylor Wright an oddly spitting image of his brother if you looked past the slightly more rounded face, along with the fact he was about three skin tones darker. While his brother effortlessly looked hard, he puts effort into keeping his feature tensed. He sort of looks like a bulldog, but every so often he forgets people are looking and relaxes. It's then he looks like a baby. His hair jet black and cut to fashion his brother's, though he slicks it back. A thin, in-style goatee tracing the outline of his mouth.

There was a day a while ago, long before the trail started I remember looking at his picture along with basic information. Young, visually appealing, smart, athletic, what any twenty year old would kill to be. Even had a scholarship to UIC but threw it all away. I remember wondering what he would be without his brother's influence. I remember posing the question of nature versus nurture. Though now looking at him, all I see is a monster.

The third of them Jason Wallace, a playboy in every sense of the word. Everything about him screams trouble, screams self-entitled, screams trust fund baby. That's what he is, and perhaps the most puzzling thing about this. There was a time when I tried to figure that out, put the pieces together but I've come to the conclusion I don't care. The over pronounced smirk that stays on his lips as he leans back in his chair as if this is some game took away any curiosity. His hair styled to hang down in his face simply so he can push it back from time to time and flash his expensive watch, just to remind everyone he has money.

"Mrs. Lewis?" Dyson's voice bringing me back to reality.

"Yes," I take a deep breath, lips parting to give him what he wants but just out of the corner of my eye I see Jason Wallace wink at me.

Just like that the fear, the anger from that morning is rushing back and I can't breathe.

I can't do this.

Feeling the tears beginning to pull in the corner of my eyes I choose not to look back at him—at them. I honestly can't. My eyes dance over the crowd behind them, over the gap between the isles, the gap in which I find myself wanting to run down. Run out and never look back.

My intention was to look Dyson in the eye and tell him I couldn't do this, I can't go through with it. But the woman sitting on the aisle seat, two rows back from the prosecution's table catches my attention.

Just like the first time I set eyes on her, I find myself getting lost in her. She's looking at me, this somber look, this look of pity. She's changed, I guess life will do that to you. Still looks like trouble in the best way possible, sill as beautiful as ever. But just something about her is different, perhaps a loss of innocence.

It's funny to me in a sad way that we spent that morning together and I never even learned her name. It wasn't until we started prepping for trial I found it out.

Bo Dennis.

Taking another deep breath, my eyes fall to the floor.

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_***** October 31st, 2010. *****_

"_You speak English?"_

"_Excuse me?" I say on reflex, before even looking up from my index card. But the extended pause of silence coupled with the facts his words actually register with me, I look up to my right._

_I stare at him for a moment, choosing to ignore his scrunched scowl that causes him to resemble an old bulldog. He's about two inches shorter than my height, Caucasian, and easily over two-hundred fifty pounds-far too much for his height. But beyond looking as if he just stepped out of a horrible, mafia movie from the fifties, I don't recognize him._

_So, why exactly is he speaking to me?_

_I look from him over to my left and see there is now at least three, maybe four feet between me and the chatty, playboy who hadn't gotten off his phone since I arrived. They really should ban cell phones in banks-at least voice calls anyway._

"_I'm sorry." I say through an apologetic smile, turning back to him._

"_Don't be sorry, just move." He snarls at me._

"_Y—yes, of course." I mumble to myself, and nod unsure of what else to really say to that. Starting to look back down at my cards I shuffle my feet moving up the semi-recently vacated spot. "Dammit." Another mutter under my breath as several cards from the bottom of my stacks slip from my grip._

"_Do you mind?" he snorts pushing passed me. My back hitting the ledge of the counter behind us as the rest my cards fall to the floor._

"_Sorry-again." I can't help but heavily sigh, embarrassment and irritation quickly setting in._

_Note to self: ALWAYS have coffee before bank._

_Second note to self: Force brother to take father errand running._

_Keeping a tight grip on the bank deposit slip in my right hand, I run the other through my hair as I kneel down. Another wave of irritation making it's rounds as I realize I hadn't numbered the study cards, and now looking at them scattered about, all I can think is it's going to take hours to place them back in order._

"_Some people." It's a gentle voice but something about it screams trouble. Maybe it's the way I can hear the smirk behind the words without even glancing over. Maybe it's the way I can't help but to smile softly. Or maybe it's the way that despite telling myself I wasn't going to look, I can't help but to do just that. "You're a doctor?"_

_I know she said something but I was right, I shouldn't have looked._

_I know I should be scooping up my cards as quick as possible and moving up the line to avoid further embarrassment, not to mention the people waiting outside for me. I know I should really hurry up the line considering there is about another six people behind me-not including my new 'friend' here. I know I should be completely focused on what I am doing and reminding myself that I swore no distractions of any kind until after I graduate._

_One could say that last little bit is thinking a little far ahead, but just looking at her now-serious distraction written all over her._

_Despite knowing all of this, all I can think is that she is absolutely, flawlessly, gorgeous. But also completely trouble from head to toes, and if there was any doubt about that the leather pants and two sizes too small tee-shirt just confirm it. She smiling at me or rather smirking as she helps scoop up my fallen notes._

"_No." I clear my throat, shake my head and look down at the cards._

"_Oh," I look up at the odd tone, she's still smiling. "So, the scrubs are what then? A fashion statement?"_

"_Um," I chuckle looking down at myself, I had completely forgot I was even wearing them. Hard to believe considering their turquoise, but I guess that happens when you live in your uniform. "Actually yes," I chuckle, picking up the last of my cards from the floor. "I think it makes me come off as something I'm not."_

"_And that would be?" she gives me this tiny chuckle, handing me back my cards._

"_Interesting."_

"_Oh I see, you're one of those." _

"_One of those?" I can't help the way my eyebrow raises. I can't be certain if she is insulting me, I've never been very good at reading people's behavior-in regards to myself. Even if she is though, something about the way she's smirking at me makes it okay. Well, maybe not okay considering I just met her and she's insulting me—but okay in the 'it's a playful and sort of flirty' way. At least I think it's flirty. _

"_Yeah, you know." She does this little shrug, then nods forward. "Overly modest." _

"_Oh." A nervous chuckle escapes me as I walk the few feet up the line. "Um, yeah-I guess I can be modest."_

"_Overly modest." _

"_I don't think it's overly modest. I simply know my limitations, shortcomings—"_

"_You're standing here in scrubs with a handful of note cards on Halloween morning, managing to piss off the worlds grumpiest guy—and grab my full attention, which isn't easy to do—"_

"_It's not, hm?"_

"_Nope, I think I have that AHD thing."_

"_AHD?" my brow raising again, my head tilting back toward her. "ADHD actually, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder."_

"_I'm sorry what, I stopped listening after the A." she raises her brow once playfully. "The point I was trying to make before so rudely interrupted—"_

"_You interrupted me first." _

"_Wh—" she cuts herself off, a moment of silence as her smirk falters just long enough to convince me I've offended her. "You are—you're something, aren't ya?" _

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_*****Present-August 23, 2014*****_

"Objection." Evony blurts out, pulling me back to reality. "Not that I and I'm sure several other people here don't enjoy a nice little flirtation between women, but what exactly does this have to do with anything."

"I—I wasn't-" I cut myself off, Dyson giving me a little shake of his head.

"The witness was simply just trying to paint a picture of the events." He answers for me.

"Objection overruled. But counselor, perhaps narrow the scope a little." Judge Asher warns, I can't prove it, but I'm ninety-three percent sure he isn't fond of the A.D.A.

"Of course," Dyson nods, pauses as his features tense and then looks back to me. "Mrs. Lewis, after you met Mrs. Dennis, who was with you through the entire incident, what happened?"

"Me and her made small talk until I was next in line, it was then that my father came in. He had forgotten another deposit."

"So you proceeded as normal? Didn't notice anything-unusual?"

"No. Everything was normal, we finished our business and were starting to walk out."

"And then?"

"And then." I hesitate, eyes falling back down to my lap. I remember every detail of that morning, time hasn't numbed the pain for me. Time hasn't diluted the details, no—for me it's only made them clearer. It's not that I don't remember, it's not that I'm panicking but simply the fact that I know once I say this, it's over. Practicing detail after detail in the comfort of Dyson's office, in the back of Vex's bar, in my own home—it made it clinical. It made it somewhat less real in a way, but now—now it matters.

Now my words count for something.

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_***** October 31st, 2010. *****_

"_She's cute." My father whispers to me in the most playful way a five-ten, retired detective with a deep raspy voice and overbearing presence can. His elbow nudging my arm, as he chuckles. _

"_Father."_

"_Daughter." Another chuckle accompanied by another nudge. "You need to get out more, all those books all the time aren't good for you."_

"_Really?" it's my turn to chuckle as I look over at him. _

"_GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" Bryan yells as he and his brother burst in from the main entrance, just as we reached the start of the four steps up to the platform where they're now standing. "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" he repeats, cocking his shotgun. _

_My hand going to my father's arm stopping him from doing what I know he's thinking about. Just out of the corner of my eye I see Jason and Barry Reed coming in from the secondary entrance on the opposite side of the bank. _

"_Back up old man." Bryan orders, him and his brother starting down the steps giving us no choice but to walk backward. My father holding his arm out in front of me, trying to usher me behind himself. _

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_*****Present-August 23, 2014*****_

"Objection."

"Mrs. Morgan, the word isn't going out of style." His tone now less amused with her antics. "What is the cause of this one?"

"The witness is using the defendants' names, these men who committed this crime were wearing ski-masks at the time. How could she possibly know?"

"Perhaps if you didn't object every five second she could explain." Dyson's irritation beginning to gnaw at his once calm resolve.

"Mrs. Lewis, how exactly are you sure if in fact the men were in masks?" Judge Asher looks down at me, I can feel his gaze but I won't look up.

"Barry Reed was identified by his body. Taylor Wright had at one point in time briefly pulled his mask up before his brother calmed him down. I know it was Bryan because in order to calm Taylor down he called him brother and they were never more than fifteen feet apart. Jason," I can't help but find his name catching in my throat the way air does right before you find yourself vomiting. "I recognized him by his eyes, by his voice."

"Your honor seriously?"

"Your honor, the witness is saying what she saw and knows to be fact. Besides the only other way to go about this would be to assign them numbers, masked-man number one and so on. Not that I doubt the jury's intelligence but I find myself getting dizzy now just thinking about trying to keep track."

"Objection overruled, but I'm warning you counselor—don't make me regret the leeway I am so generously granting you."

"Of course." Dyson nods respectfully, though I'm sure he's called him ten different names in his mind by now. "So, these men came in with force?"

"Yes, they were loud at first that was it. They were trying to be intimidating, and for a while a few of us weren't worried all too much."

"Why is that?"

"Because they seemed to be over compensating. They never touched anyone, they never threatened to kill us. Just loud, waved their guns around but didn't really point them at anyone in particular. Barry and Taylor seemed—nervous."

"Well they were robbing a bank full of people, nervous would be-understandable."

"No, more as if they were having second thoughts. It actually made me, my father and Mrs. Dennis rather optimistic about the situation. Barry stayed toward the exit, constantly looking as if he was going to bolt. Tylor kept telling a pair of crying children it was going to be okay."

"Well if you, and several others followed their instructions implicitly, even felt safe, how did things get so far out of hand?"

"They-it had to have been five minutes and then Bryan said about the money and Jason realized that no one had alerted the police. They were in full control." I run my hand through my hair, looking up to meet Jason's eye. "He said he wanted to play."

"To play?" he snorts. "That sounds more like a line from a movie than something someone would say."

"At first they argued amongst themselves, then it was pretty much just Jason and then Bryan followed when people began to struggle. Just, taunting people, hitting them, ripped the shirt off a bank teller. It was childish at first, cruel but nothing you wouldn't see on a playground."

"What changed?"

"It must have been thirty minutes, maybe twenty no one even tried to come to the bank, it was like suddenly the world forgot about us. Then-then my brother came looking for me and my father. Long of the short, the police came, they panicked, things turned very violent but then-"

"But then." He nods his head, features softening as he walks toward me. "If I'm to understand correctly it wasn't until the twenty minutes prior to their escape that things turned deadly."

"That's correct." Sighing I nod as I give him my answer, I know what comes next. He's going to ask me what changed, and as much as I'd like to give him an answer-I don't know what changed.

But I do know the events that followed-they would have to suffice.

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_***** October 31st, 2010. *****_

"_Are you okay?" I ask, looking over at Bo as she rubs her right hand with her left. Apparently she hadn't been moving fast enough for Bryan which earned her a shove to the floor. _

"_Define okay." Her answer accompanied by a faint chuckle. _

"_Um, a state of being satisfactory, though not exceptionally or especially good."_

"_Seriously?" her brow raises, a timid smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth as she tilts her head toward me. _

"_Yes, what?" _

"_Tone it down." My father says under his breath in a fake cough, earning me to look to my left at him, but his eyes stay firmly on Jason. _

"_Well, then I would say I am okay." She chuckles softly, almost as if for a minute she's forgotten where we are. "So Doc," her features turn serious, her shoulder digging into mine as she leans against me. Her voice dropping to a whisper as her eyes move out onto the floor. "Do you think any of the injuries are dire?" _

"_Define dire." My own eyes staying on Barry now as he stares out toward the door. _

"_Like if these assholes decide to keep us in here a few more hours they won't make it."_

"_Probably not, most are superficial with a mere few slightly over that. The only one I would worry about is the bank manager, I didn't see how bad the stab wound was."_

"_I give him another hour, tops." My father whispers, he would know since he was the closest when it happened. _

"_Scardy and Dopey would be easy to take," she glances at me. "The other two though would be the issue." _

"_What exactly do you do again?" my eyes fixing on her, though she's already looking away. _

"_Me? I'm a bartender for two different clubs, what I'm going to do is be a cop, change the world and all that." _

"_Sound more enthusiastic about it on your interview." My father cuts in, looking at her-at me. "They pay attention that." _

"_What are you doing?" Taylor's voice cuts through the air, everyone's attention going to Jason as he has this girl, no older than eight by the wrist. He's jerking her with no regard for her screams, or those of her mother's, who is holding on for dear life. "What are you doing man?!"_

"_I want to play." His chuckle suddenly the scariest thing in the world-until I hear the pop of his gun. An array of screams coming from us, myself included-I think. For a moment I think it's the girl he's shot, but then I see her mother's body slump to the floor. _

"_What the fuck?!" Barry lets out, the question repeated over and over as he goes toward Jason, who in turn just keeps laughing and telling him to calm down. _

_I can hear the four of them screaming at one another, their voices blending into one as they begin to fade away. My eyes never once leaving the pool of blood beneath the woman's head. I was used to cadavers, used to blood and organs-but there was something about the fact that just moments ago she was alive-and now-she isn't. I don't even realize I'm shaking until I feel Bo's hand on my arm. _

"_Keep her here." I hear my father say, and for a minute I don't understand what he's telling me to do. It's not until I feel the grip on my arm tighten that I know his words aren't for me. "Listen," he says walking toward the arguing foursome, his arms raised up from his sides. "I'm a retired cop, they just heard a gunshot, and they're looking in here—if they see you holding onto the girl like that, they will come in."_

"_Sit the fuck down." Jason says as calmly as can be, the girl whimpering—I think he's pulled her or maybe tighten his grip around her throat. My father obstructing most of my view._

"_Just think about this rationally, I don't want anyone else to get hurt."_

"_Then sit back down."_

"_I will-as soon as you let the girl go. In fact you want a hostage-you want a punching bag, I volunteer. I know how they think out there, they won't storm if they see you have me."_

"_Listen to him, let the damn girl go." Barry snarls at him, his free hand pulling his mask off and tossing to the floor. "Let the kid go, leave me here and go. Let them have me, she's just a kid man." _

"_Stupidity, poverty, morals—all disgusting fucking diseases." His absurd statement followed by another shot, another wave of screams. _

_This time though the screams, the sobs don't stop after a few seconds. The yelling doesn't stop. My father falls to his knees, Barry rushes Jason allowing the girl to run for the door. There's several shots, several things yelled from the bank-robbing brothers. _

_It takes me a minute to realize my father is on his knees, I mean I know he is but it doesn't register that something is wrong. It's not until he falls to his side-and then his back that it clicks for me. _

_Bo is pulling my arm to keep me in place as I try to stand-try to crawl along the floor to him. _

_I brake her hold, my hands and feet pushing against the ground as I make my way to him. Less than three feet away there is another shot—but this one is followed by a thud. My body jumping at the sound, and as I scoot the last three feet to my father, my eyes move up just enough to see Barry's body lying on the ground. A gunshot wound to his head, eyes open and staring into mine. _

"_Back up." Jason's voice cold, but no longer as calm as it was, no longer is there enjoyment lacing his words. "I said back up."_

"_I heard you." My words a snarling sob, as I glare up at him, my trembling hands covering the gushing wound on my father's chest. I haven't seen it, haven't even looked down at him but the word seems fitting considering that even pressing as hard as I am, blood is still managing to find a way out. _

"_You didn't look all that stupid," his eyebrow raises as I assume he smirks, his gun raising up to become even with my forehead. "Seems I misjudged."_

"_It's her father. It's her father." I hear Bo repeat, over and over again. One hand on my shoulder as she holds the other up toward him, as if that would make him stop. _

_I keep the pressure tight as I never once break eye contact, even when I realize my father isn't breathing-I don't think he ever had been since the moment his knees hit the ground—but I can't bring myself to accept that. _

"_He isn't breathing." Bo's voice, full of panic. Her own trembling hands going over mine that have fallen still, and then to his head. I don't look over at her, but from my peripheral I see enough to know she is trying CPR-it's too late. "He's not breathing." Her wrist grazing my hands as she attempts chest compressions, but my eyes stay locked with Jason's, never once breaking. "He's-not breathing."_

_._

_._

_*****Present-August 23, 2014*****_

I look down at my shoes, my heart aching to the point that I feel like I can't breathe. Tears run down my cheeks but I don't wipe them away, my hands stay folded in my lap. Bo's voice, those words echoing in my ears. The look in his eyes as fresh in my memory as it was that day.

"No further questions." Dyson's voice sounds distance, I wonder why at first until I hear the sound of chairs being moved-then the sound of heels follows.

"I'll make this as quick and as painless as possible." Bullshit. "Just two very simple questions Mrs. Lewis." I look up at her, tears no longer falling freely but regardless my vision still slightly distorted. "The first being that please correct me if I am wrong, but apart from Barry Reed, you never saw any of their faces?"

"I told you, I saw—"

"You saw the third bank robber pull up his mask, but you didn't get a good look did you? I mean it's understandable, you were in a horrible situation, you were in shock from your father's death. You can't be sure what you saw."

"I gave a description of him—"

"No, you gave a description that could fit any young man with a darker skin complexion."

"I—I'm not racist."

"No, of course not. But my client, Taylor has a very distinct look-your description looked very stereotypical. Very—basic. You even got the hair style wrong."

"I only saw the side of his head, that part was correct."

"Right, the side of his head was correct, the only problem is the rest wasn't. You said he took his mask off, but that isn't true otherwise you would have known his hair was different and described that, right?"

"Objection, she's attacking the witness' character." Dyson snaps.

"I'm not, really. I have nothing but respect and sympathy for Mrs. Lewis, I am just pointing out that in a traumatized state, after just seeing her father murdered in front of her, she could have possibly not been thinking clearly."

"I'll allow it." Of course he will.

"Is it possible Mrs. Lewis?"

"I know what I saw."

"With all of these inconsistences, with everything that was happening around you. Is it possible you got it wrong?"

"I know what I saw."

"Just yes or no."

"Evony I know what I saw." My voice raises, an indescribable pain in my chest replaced with a pure and undiluted anger.

"Your honor I request a recess." Dyson practically yells his 'request', as he jumps up.

"Answer the question first Mrs. Lewis." Judge Asher says in a lower, sympathetic tone.

"If-you look at the facts on paper, in black and white then yes."

"Thank you." Evony says, already turning her back to me. "No further questions."

She can twist the situation as she wishes. Manipulate the facts to her benefit. Attack my character. It doesn't matter.

I know what I saw.

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_**Municipal Building—Women's Bathroom—10:13 a.m.**_

"Hey." Her soft, unmistakable voice echoes the room but all I really hear is the pity that laces her words.

"Hey." I can't help but sigh, hands gripping the white porcelain as if for dare life. My eyes stay focused on the little, silver circle around the drain but my head is tilted just enough toward the door to see her perfectly out of the corner of my eye.

"I um," her voice cracks as she looks behind herself and gestures pointlessly at the door. She seems—different, less confident than I remember her being. "I wanted to see if you were okay." It takes a conscious effort not to snort at the comment. "Things kinda went to shit in there rather quickly."

"You think?"

"I'm up next. I've been prepped and shit, hell been in court more times than I can count in my life time but this, this is-something else."

"Word of advice," inhaling deeply through my nose, clenching my jaw as another wave of nausea ripples through me, I look over to her. "May as well say goodbye to your dignity now."

"Yeah," she does this sort of snorted chuckle, arms folding over her chest. "The defense attorney seems like a real ballbuster."

"Oh, you have no idea." My eyes advert to the floor, it's not like she'll notice. She hasn't looked me in the eyes once.

"You've been coming to all of-"

"Been here every single day," I turn back to the sink, eyes finding the drain once again. "Every day I've been allowed to I mean."

"I've wanted to, but-"

"No you didn't." I turn to face her again, the sharpness in my tone catching her off guard. "**I** didn't want to come. Reliving this day over and over again, hearing it over and over again-getting to experience it through different people's eyes. Experience their fear while never forgetting my own."

"Yeah." Her jaw locks as she nods almost as if in defeat.

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_**Lauren's Apartment—9:56 p.m.**_

What are you doing?

That's the question I seem to always find myself asking.

I've yet to come up with an adequate answer.

I take a gulp of my freshly refilled wine, I know I may as well just stay in the kitchen-it'll be gone by the time I make the short walk to the couch.

I ignore logic—partially. I find myself stopped in between the kitchen and the couch, eyes falling on the several bags I've packed that now resemble a pile next to the door. A slight twinge of guilt breaking through the seemingly unwavering anger. The same anger that caused me to get a speeding ticket on the way home. The same anger that caused me to tear apart the bedroom, office and bathroom searching for her shit to throw away. Luckily I calmed down before I actually threw it in the dumpster, spending my night chasing down a garbage truck through the city would be a little too much for my already devastated ego.

Tearing my eyes away from the very expensive pile of crap, I walk around the couch. I know I should double back and refill my glass but I suppose having to get up every few minutes is actually detouring me away from downing the entire bottle.

I lean back into the corner of the couch, I mean to look at the television. Some stupid reality show on, about the only thing they play now a days. Have to love American television. But instead my eyes fall onto the row of pictures resting atop the length of the bookshelf which runs along a decent portion of the wall, just underneath the television.

Some book-or movie said that photographs were nothing more than lies. Something about how if you wanted to you could make the picture come across however you wanted. I suppose it's true.

Looking at them in this moment, they all seem so fake. Even the way I have them displayed, it's all an illusion of sorts.

Seven pictures, seven little lies feeding into bigger lies.

The one in the middle that of my mother and father along with a very young version of myself and my brother. Two pictures of graduations, my brother's and my own. Just my father and us. A picture of myself and my father on the beach back just before I graduated high school, and one of him and my brother on the same day. One of myself, Vex and Evony at the Seventh Symphony, the night she won her first big case. Then the last little lie, one of just me and her—smiling and looking so happy.

All of the pictures look perfect, may as well use them as the model pictures in the frames.

Seven perfect little lies, lies because if we were really all that happy-this wouldn't be where we've ended up.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Wednesday**_

.

.

_**Seventh Symphony—8:23 p.m.**_

"You plan on babysitting that all night?"

"Hm?" my brow furrows before I even realize what he's asking me. My only answer a trademark wolf grin as he reaches across the table, and clanks the bottom of his bottle against my own. "Oh, I'm going to finish it."

"You sure?"

"I'm positive."

"I thought you hate warm beer."

"I do, but it's not warm." I bring the rim to my lips, a mere sip slipping passed but it's enough to make my stomach turn-I won't give him the satisfaction though. "Mmm." I force a smile, bringing the bottle back down to the table where it will stay until he ventures off to the bathroom, in which time I'll get another.

"Always so stubborn."

"It's in my nature."

"Is that so?" he chuckles, taking another hearty drink. "You need to get out of your head Lauren."

"My father used to say that." My eyes falling to the table as I take another drink. Shit. Forgot. I try not to make a face but by the way he shakes his head, I know I'm busted.

"Your father was a smart man."

"That he was."

"Well since you know that, why don't you take his advice?"

"I will." I nod, earning another '_yeah, sure'_ look from him. It was always a double edge sword with him.

He could play the role of brother yet on the other hand it only reminded me of how my relationship with my real brother had diminished. He could substitute in almost every way for a lover, though on the other hand it only reminded me from time to time how much I missed a real relationship-perhaps that's why I continuously fall back into my-situation with Evony. He could play the role of the best friend perfectly, but then there are always the little things that remind me that at the end of the day, he's an A.D.A and I'm his witness.

"I really will." I smile, another nod. "Once this trial is all said and done. Once those monsters are off the streets for good, then I can focus on having a life beyond the court room."

"And the hospital."

"Yes, and beyond the hospital."

"And not just with Evony."

"Let's not," I hold my hand up, shaking my head. "Just let's not go there now."

I lean further into the back of the booth, fingers of my right hand taping the bottle as I listen to the beat of a song I would never listen to on my own. My eyes wandering out onto the dance floor as his attention turns to the rest of his obnoxiously, large hamburger.

He's right, I should let go of this thing with Evony. It wasn't always toxic, in fact for the longest it was quite the opposite. Honestly, even now if you were to remove this little courtroom drama, it still has it's moments. She's beautiful, smart, caring when she wants to be-we have history. But I constantly find myself defending our relationship-mostly to myself. But beyond the red flag that raises, what scares me more is that I find myself wondering if it's really her I want or that I'm just afraid of going through this alone.

"Hey."

"Hey." I can't help the little smile that forces it's way onto my lips as I look up at Bo who has managed to approach our table without detection.

"Goodbye." Dyson chuckles, nearly jumping to his feet as he grabs his plate in one hand and beer in the other. "Oh yeah," he looks between us and gives the most immature nod I've ever seen. "Goodnight ladies."

"Mind if I?" she smirks, eyes glancing at the freshly vacated seat as she needlessly gestures to it with her bottle as well. I'm beginning to wonder if she actually gestures this frequently-or perhaps specifically when she's nervous.

"By all means."

"Thank you." She starts sliding into the seat, her eyes meeting mine—she's a bit tipsy I can tell. Something about her level of comfort, the body language-the fact she actually looks me in the eyes. "This doesn't really seem like the kind of place I'd imagine you hanging out. Dyson, maybe though." She chuckles and I can't help but to do the same.

"It grows on you. Sort of like diatoms." I can't help but chuckle again as she just stares at me blankly. "It's a prolific type of algae." I take a sip as she continues to smirk blankly at me. "Algae is-"

"I know what algae is."

"Okay, good. I was getting a little worried."

"I bet you were." She shakes her head, laughing as she brings the bottle to her lips.

"I'm actually close with the owner."

"Vex?" her eyes widen, I guess it's safe to say she knows him.

"Yeah, he um, he grows on you too."

"I've yet to have that happen."

"When exactly did you meet him? You're definitely the type I would hear about."

"Please don't make it sound like we've gone out on a date or something."

"Not your type?" my eyebrow raises as does my bottle, another chuckle escaping.

"Not in the least."

"Well then, what exactly would be Bo Dennis' type?"

"Ooh, tough question." She gets this devilish smirk, I know I'm in trouble. "Long legs, blonde, pretty eyes with a beautiful smile-to start with."

"Flirty as ever I see."

"You know what they say, flirting is just like a sport."

"No one says that." I can't help but laugh.

"Oh, I'm sure they do. I've heard it before."

"Yes, in a song from the early two-thousands."

"Then it's a saying."

"No." I shake my head. "It's simply not the same."

"Well, fine then. As of now I adopt it."

"Adopt it?"

"Yes, adopt it. It's my saying now, put a '_TM_' on the end of it."

"I worry about your sanity."

"Do you now? What a coinkydink, so do I."

I run my hand through my hair, eyes wandering back out onto the floor as I try to keep from laughing. I was right, she had changed. I can admit I am not the best person to pass judgment on character. I can also admit I hardly know her well enough to say definitive there has been change but-there's just something I see.

That day in the bank, she was flirty and charming but in a very sexual and seductive way. Nothing wrong with it, in fact I ended up dating someone like that. But now, there is this softness, this gentle maturity I didn't see that day.

She still has that sexual, seductive, smoldering appeal but there is also something disarming about her—something safe.

"I'm sorry about our mishap in the bathroom yesterday."

"I could take that comment somewhere very dirty." I smile softly, I'm sure she could. In fact I'm pretty sure she could take pretty much any comment there, but by the way her smirk turns to a polite smile, I assume she realizes I am trying to be genuine. "No worries Doc, I understand."

"Do you?"

"Completely." She takes a swing. "After my—run in with the escapee of the ninth circle of hell, I went over to the shooting range. I don't imagine doctors have a release like that."

"Golf is the normal M.D. pass time."

"Golf?" she snorts as if I've just told the world's funniest joke. "You—golf?"

"Oh God no," my head shaking excessively before I even think about it. "I just meant that's what most doctors do to relieve stress."

"Does it work?"

"It didn't for me, in fact had the opposite effect considering I could hardly hit the ball. When I did, I could never get it in the hole." My lips curving into a smirk as I watch her eyes get this little glimmer to them. "Don't even."

"I wasn't going to say it-but you know." She nods, her laughter mixing with mine until that's the only sound filling my ears. "You know-"

"What?" I ask, watching her as she takes another drink.

"You were right."

"I often am." What was our continuous laughter slowly begins fading away. "About what?"

"What you said, about not actually wanting to be there." Six seconds and ten words and I'm right back to that day. Right back into this soul shattering vortex I can't seem to break free from. "I've never been one to scare easy, even less since I've started working. Those times though that I have been, I've always been able to fool others, trick myself even into believing I'm not. That day though—"

"People tend to try and avoid situations in which remind them of their pain, their mortality, even their weaknesses."

"I'm confronted with mortality every day, not just my own." Her tone hardens ever so slightly, a narrow point to her words. I've offended her.

"Weakness then."

"You know, there's this quote. 'One of the greatest discoveries a man makes, one of his great surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he couldn't do'."

"Henry Ford."

"You know it?" she just chuckles softly, brow raising a bit. "Of course you do, how silly of me."

"It's a very powerful quote."

"See, I don't think I'm-or I was trying to avoid weakness, but rather who I was."

"Who were you?"

"I-I was someone very different then. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I shit rainbows, run with unicorns and have a permeant halo now or any bullshit like that, but I was just-"

"Different."

"Yeah."

"I know what you mean." Sadly.

"It's funny."

"Funny?" I'm sure I make a face, since that was not what I was expecting her next words to be.

"Funny how everything can change in an instant."

"I don't know if I agree with that."

"What?" this time it's her turn to give me the puzzled look.

"I understand the broad meaning of the statement, but I just, don't know if an entire life can change in its entirety in a mere instant."

"I think it can." She gives me this little shrug.

"Clearly." I take a drink, a second to remind myself this isn't debate class. "Do you have any proof of this notion of yours?"

"Proof?"

"Yeah, proof. Evidence or argument establishing or helping to establish a fact or truth of a statement."

"You know, sometimes I can't tell if you're really just a smartass or if this is just really how you interact with people."

"Probably a little of both." I try to stifle my smirk.

"Both, huh?" she flashes a grin, her eyes falling to my lips. "Well Mrs. Lewis, it is very endearing in an odd sort of way."

"A paradox of sorts."

"Now you're just showing off with your fancy vocabulary-trying to impress me."

"Possibly." This time it's my eyes that wander down the curve of her jaw to halt at her lips. "Is it working?"

"Possibly."

I shift slightly, watching her as she take another drink. I don't actually think we're drinking to drink anymore but rather to give us a brief reprieve. A reprieve to think of the next thing to say, the right thing to say maybe is a better choice of words. It's not that it's difficult to talk to her, in fact it's easier than ever expected. The conversation just sort of flows between us, like water down a stream. I'm not even really nervous-until I realized she has been checking me out this entire time.

I just find myself scared. Scared of saying the wrong thing. Scared of offending her. Scared of letting something slip. Scared of pulling her into this little black hole I spend most of my days in.

My lips pars to ask her something I've never asked someone before, but the sound of my phone going off shatters my confidence.

"I'm sorry." Sighing to myself, I look down at my phone.

.

_**Evony:**_ _I know you don't want to talk to me right now but a friend at the station just called. Your brother has been taken in on another DUI. I'm already on my way to the station._ _**(9:31 p.m.)**_

.

"Everything okay?" she asks with such genuine concern, it's interesting to me how she can be so empathetic and yet hardly know me.

"No. Yes, it's fine." I give her a polite smile as I bring myself to my feet, scooping up my jacket as I do. "Thank you-for tonight, it's been a while since I enjoyed someone's company so much."

"Anytime." She smiles up at me, this sweet and innocent smile that I honestly never expected to see from her.

I can't help but wonder if she means it in the passing polite way people tend to use it as-or maybe she actually means it in its literal sense.

I hope it's the latter-at least I think I do.

Returning the smile, I slip into my jacket and steal one last glance of her before slipping back into the real world.


	2. Instant

_**Chapter One: Instant **_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

.

.

_**One Month Later**_

.

_**Monday**_

.

.

_**Rose-Crest Cemetery—8:21 a.m. **_

"Hey daddy." My lips curving into the shyest of smiles, fingertips running along the edge of the chilled stone as I walk around from behind.

I didn't make it a habit of calling my father 'daddy', but every so often it slipped. Every so often when I felt like the five year old girl who had fallen off of the family tree, the same tree I was told countless times not to climb. Every so often when I felt like the nine year old girl who held her mother's hand in the hospital room as her life slipped away. Every so often when I remembered I wasn't as disconnected from everything happening around me, remembered I know how to feel.

Like I said, it wasn't a habit, but something about this morning made me feel like all of those girls rolled into one.

"I know, I know. I'm not supposed to be here." The softest of chuckles fills the air as I give a little nod. I can just imagine his face, the look he had when I was too stubborn to listen to him. That stern look with a furrowed brow, but a smile just beneath the surface. A smile that without words always managed to say '_that's my girl, just like her father'_. "I've kept good on my promise, mostly." I roll my eyes at myself. "Today is it, it's finally it." I can't help but to sigh, my eyes moving down to the grass.

It was one thing to say to myself as I'm rearranging my life around. It's one thing to hear Dyson tell me in his stern and confident voice. It's one thing to hear on CNN, on repeat how the trail of the decade is finally coming to it's moment of climax. It's another thing to find yourself just hours away, standing in front of your father's grave as the world seems to come to a standstill.

It's another thing to realize just what those words mean.

"Dyson is sure they will convict, he hasn't stopped assuring me. All of the news channels as well. No one can imagine them getting off."

Drawing a deep breath through my nose, my eyes move back up to his name. He always taught me it was bad manners to not look someone in the eyes while speaking. Showed lack of character, granted in the literal sense I can't look him in the eyes-but it just feels wrong to speak to him while looking at my shoes.

"It's all going to be over." Six little words have never held so much meaning, so much expectation.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Municipal Building—Outside of Room 108—11:17 a.m.**_

"Hey."

"Oh, hey." I chuckle under my breath as I look up from the floor to see Bo standing next to me.

"Long time no see stranger." She smirks, and for a moment I forget where we are. For a mere moment I forget I haven't seen her in a month.

"I know." A polite smile accompanied by a nod. It wasn't the best showcase of my conversational skills, but at the moment it was all I had to offer. "I'm sorry about that."

"Please," she lazily holds her hand up to half mass and shakes her head. "You don't owe me anything."

"No, I know I don't owe you anything it's just that—"

"Lauren," a gentle call of my name and I find myself stilled. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant that with all of this going on and you're a doctor so I know you're on call."

"Oh."

"Plus I kind of got the impression things were a little complicated for you."

"Complicated." I'm unable to stifle either the chuckle or snort that escape. "That's a good word for it"

"Well, I did tell you once that you couldn't be boring. Guess you're just proving me right."

"Proving you right?" my brow raises just a bit, the implication that I'm wrong-even if it is over something silly, poking my competitive side.

"Oh yeah, you should know now that I am very competitive." Her smirk growing slightly, the feel of her eyes dancing over my face causing my heart to race. "Love to hear I'm right-all the time."

"Really?"

"No." she shakes her head, as she laughs. "Don't get me wrong I would love to hear you admit I'm right, but I was just teasing."

"You have an unusual sense of humor Ms. Dennis."

"Ms. Dennis? So formal now." Her laughter quieting to a chuckle. "I won't deny I have the most unusual sense of humor, but I was actually just trying to get you to smile."

"Is that so?" my left brow raises as I stare up at her in wonderment. She just continues to chuckle and give me this nod. "And why would you want to do that?"

"Apart from the fact that you have a beautiful smile? You give me the impression you don't do it often."

"Hm, I wonder what would give you that impression."

"Just a hunch." She says it softly, almost as if she was telling me a secret. Her eyes meeting mine, and though the sweet sound of her laughter has died out, her smile remains.

"It's time." Dyson's voice is clear, I hear him and understand him perfectly. His words carrying a meaning that pulls me back to reality, yet I can't bring myself to look away from her just yet.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Municipal Building—Inside Room 108—11:42 a.m.**_

I look over at Bo, breath catching in my chest as the sound of the bailiff's shoes clanking on the floor echoes in my ears.

A million things running through my mind. Dyson's closing argument. Evony's closing argument. Every little look I could swear I know the meaning of from the jury. The look on the judge as he read the folded piece of paper before handing it back to be read aloud. The look on the tiny, emo girl sitting beside Bo when Evony attacked her testimony in her closing argument. The look Bo keeps giving me every few minutes when she looks over to make sure I haven't fallen apart. The look on my father's face when he told Bo to watch me. The look on my brother's face when I collapsed into his arms that morning.

So many things-so many things clouding my mind. So many thing shredding my composure. So many feelings weighing on my chest, crushing me.

I just keep telling myself there is no need to worry, Dyson assured me there is only one way this could go.

Then there is another voice in the back of my mind, one that is reminding me not to be so naive.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Asher speaks, as I remind myself to breathe.

"We have your Honor." This lanky, librarian looking man says as he keeps his eyes glued to the paper, almost as if he is worried it would make an escape if he didn't. "We, the jury find the defendants Bryan Wright, Taylor Wright and Jason Wallace," he pauses for a moment and looks out toward us-toward me. I feel a brief tremble of Bo's hand before it covers mine.

I stare intently at the juror waiting for the verdict.

I look over at the defense table and see Jason smiling back at me, this wolf grin that makes my stomach turn. I see Taylor holding onto his brother smiling. I see Evony staring at me through what I think are glassy eyes.

I look back at the juror still waiting for the verdict.

My eyes shift to Dyson who is sitting in the chair facing the jury with this bewildered look.

"I don't understand." I say under my breath looking over to Bo who is three shades paler than her normal color. "I don't understand." I repeat a little louder, attention shifting back to the juror who is now gone, the rest of his peers following him out. A nice little line of jurors scurrying out of a door, sort of like a line of ants. "I don't understand." I say it again, maybe more to myself this time.

What about the verdict?

Then it hits me, '_Not guilty on all charges'_.

The words pound through my mind like the excessive base in a club when sitting next to the speaker. It feels like everything from the past thirty seconds replays for me on fast forward.

"Lauren." I hear Bo's voice, a tight grip on my wrist all before I even realize I'm standing. "Lauren." She repeats my name, trying to hold my wrist but I manage to pull free.

My initial thought was to make a dash for the defense table and-do something. But I catch myself, catch the thought. Instead I force myself out of the courtroom. Down the obnoxiously long halls, either shoulder crashing into innocent bystanders. I hardly feel the tiny yet constant blows-nor do I care enough in this moment. I don't find myself caring about much of anything in this moment other than making my escape. Escape to where? Not a clue, anywhere that wasn't here. Anywhere that wasn't in the same building as those monsters, the twelve jurors included.

My hands hit the thick glass, the doors normally carrying a weight I found myself having to put in some effort to open. Keyword being normally.

"_**MS. LEWIS, OVER HERE! IS THIS HOW YOU EXPECTED EVENTS TO PLAY OUT?! ARE YOU UPSET WITH THE VERDICT?! MS. LEWIS, IS THERE ANY TRUTH TO THE RACIST CLAIMS?! DO YOU FEEL RESPONSIBLE FOR THE LOSS OF CONVICTION?! ARE YOU IN FACT A MEMBER TO THE LGBT COMMUNITY—DO YOU THINK THAT HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE PERSONAL ATTACKS ON YOUR CHARATER?! WILL YOU FILE A CIVIAL SUIT?! IS IT TRUE YOU KNEW MR. WALLACE IN COLLEGE?!"**_

They swarm me like bees to honey. Continuous flashes from their cameras nearly as violent as their echoing accusations. Their absurd questions-that seem to mirror the thoughts buried deep down in the back of my mind.

I keep my head down, hands up as I push through the crowd. Dyson discussed this with me a million times, after the verdict we would walk out together. That I would just stand behind him, two officers would be with us, nothing to worry about. Then again, he also was assuring me that the verdict would be one in our favor.

It literally feels as if the world is has been slowed. Not slow motion, not stopped, but slowed. Slowed and distorted, similar to the way film reacts when exposed to extensive sunlight. Their echoing voices, low and distorted. The walk down the eight steps the longest walk I've ever taken.

The second I feel the sidewalk beneath my left foot I find myself speed walking into a jog to my right. I can hear the crowd faintly behind me, it's dulled now though. Maybe they aren't following-or maybe only a feware. It doesn't matter, I won't look back to check.

My eyes go up to the ridiculously large sign on the streetlight, 'MADISON' written in white letters across a blue background. I can hardly breathe, hardly ignore the turning in my stomach, but for some reason as I look up at the sign all I can wonder is, '_what happened to the proportionate green and white ones?'_. It's a ridiculous thought, I know that. It has absolutely no place amongst my muddled thoughts, but in the strangest of ways it brings me a moment's peace. For a mere moment, everything in my mind is focusing on what happened to these signs. These signs that I've been seeing all of my life, and now they're gone.

The blaring horn of the city's overpopulated street startles me, shattering my mere moment of obscure peace. I look to my left, dozens of business people waiting across the street to come my way.

I can't though-no more crowds.

Without a conscious thought my body takes off in the other direction. I'm not running or even jogging, but whatever it is I am doing is far from walking. I keep my head down, only a few people walking toward me. It's more than I'd like but I can handle it.

A firm grip on my side jolts me, my feet nearly tripping over themselves as I'm guided into an alley.

A moment of pure stillness comes over me as I look up at a window on the building across from me. It's nothing special, but like with the sign this insignificant thing brings me something I can no longer achieve on my own.

I should be scared, but I'm just still.

"What are you doing?"

"Bo." Her name rolls off my tongue as effortlessly as it always seems to do. It seems as if I've been saying her name for years.

"You shouldn't have run off like that." She stares at me, eyes narrow and jaw tight. "Where were you going?"

"I was—I don't know."

"Look at little less like you're kidnapping her." A woman's voice from the side walk grabs our attention, it's the same girl from the courtroom. "People are looking, and not in a _'ooh, there's about to be some girl-on-girl'_ type of way."

"Excuse my sister, her brain and mouth aren't connected most days." Bo informs me before ever turning her head back to face me. "It's not safe to be out here."

"Not safe to be out here?" my brow raises, as I can't help but snort. "Where is safe anymore?"

"I just mean I don't think you're in the right state of mind right now."

"What, do you think I'm going to go after those—"

"No, of course not." She shakes her head, this expression I can't quite gage. "You're not thinking clearly and a lot of shit can happen when that happens."

"I'll be okay." I say, brushing passed her.

"Lauren." She says my name with such conviction. I feel her reaching for me, but I am already out of her grasp.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**A.D.A. Thornwood's Office—4:05 p.m.**_

"I'll get it to you by the end of the month-Lauren." He looks up at me like a mouse whose just been caught in sticky paper. Perhaps it was the slamming of his door against the wall that induced the look more than my presence, either way, it doesn't matter. "I'm going to need to call you back." He mumbles into his phone, eyes never leaving mine. "I've been calling you."

"I haven't had much to say to you." My jaw stays tight. Every passing second staring at his face, staring at his stupid, wounded bird expression, only testing my wavering resolve further. "That's-a lie actually." I snort, and nod. "I have a lot to say to you. I just didn't quite have the self-control."

"You don't need it, let me have it. I deserve it."

"Don't." my voice raising. "Don't give me that noble, hero bullshit Dyson. I am not one of those fresh out of law school, just clearing the jailbait line of acceptability girls you have moving through that revolving door you call a bed."

"I understand we shit the bed—"

"You understand shit." My voice raising just a bit more, a conscious effort now not to walk further into his office. "You don't understand how I feel. What I'm going through."

"You're right. There is no way that I can." He swallows hard, sitting up further in his chair.

"Do you know they're attacking me personally? The things they are saying about me?"

"It's just sticks and stones."

"Sticks and stones?" a snort escaping me, his choice of words borderline infuriating. Comparing my pain, my embarrassment to that of a schoolyard. "You are something else."

"Shit Lauren, it was a bad choice of words."

"You seem to be having a lot of bad choices of words. Take in court today, you just had a big fumble there."

"I did what I could do Lauren. Shit, you want to blame someone, maybe you should talk to that bitch you share a bed with."

"Classy." I can't help but laugh, shaking my head as I walk up to his desk. "My life is crumbling and you're blaming me."

"No, no." he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and giving me this sigh. "I'm just pissed, I thought for sure-I thought it was a slam dunk Lauren. I thought we-everything I ever told you, I believed. I believed we never were in trouble."

"Bullshit. You had to have known something."

"I wish I did Lauren. I wish I knew what happened, but I'm sitting here and just keep having this image of me bent over with my pants around my ankles. I didn't see it, I don't see it. We were perfect."

"Perfect is defined as having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be. If the case was perfect we wouldn't be here!" my hands slam the desk, the sting spreading up through my arms. I don't flinch though, I just lean forward and stare into his eyes. I was never one for confrontation but now it's all I want. "Would we?"

"What are you looking for?" his eyes move over my face, this mixture of anger and pity writing the most unusual expression over his features.

"What am I looking for?" my eyes narrow, falling from his face to his desk phone.

It big, heavy-would cause damage with enough force. I could probably hit him twice, maybe three times if I am lucky before he can defend himself. It might be worth it.

My eyes close, jaw tensing as I take another deep breath through my nose.

When did I become this person?

When did I become so violent? So out of control? Who am I? Is this really me beyond the exterior layers? Can I really not know myself that well?

My eyes open, still on the phone.

"What I want is the same thing I've always wanted," I look up, eyes locking with his. Something is there, something shocked and maybe near fearful. I wonder if he knew what I was thinking, what was crossing my mind just seconds ago. "Justice."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Outside Lauren's Building—5:00 p.m.**_

"I really can't do this with you right now." I step out of my car, one hand holding my phone to my ear, the other gipping my keys as I push the door shut.

**(You can't seem to ever do anything for me anymore.)**

"Wonderful sentence structure." I mumble under my breath, the door man pulling the entrance open for me.

**(Don't give me that bullshit Lauren. Your smartass bullshit. Don't forget who I am.)**

"Who you were is what you mean."

**(Don't you give a shit anymore what happens to your own flesh and blood?)**

"Today is not the day to go there with me Lachlan." I reach out, Pinky and index fingers pressing the elevator call button excessively. "It's really not."

**(Your girl is a lawyer. Your best friend is the fucking district attorney.)**

"You're wrong on both accounts." My eyes shift up to the little up and down arrows above the doors, a ding catching me off guard as the door part. "She isn't my girlfriend anymore and he I would be pleased if I never spoke to, let alone saw ever again."

**(Swallow your pride. Kiss and make up. Do what you have to do to get me a deal.)**

"I did! Or don't you remember that? The only reason you're sitting where you are and not in jail is because of the deal I was able to get them to arrange for you."

**(A real fucking deal Lauren. One that allows me to be free and not confined to this tree-hugging, bunny-loving, kool-aid-drinking, shit-for-brains, four-hours-of-therapy-a-day fucks!)**

"Don't raise your voice to me." I nearly bolt from the doors before they're even fully open. "If you didn't want to be there then you shouldn't have picked up another DUI. You shouldn't have drove your car into another. You shouldn't have had a blood alcohol level three times the legal limit. You shouldn't have continued to drink after the first and second and sixth arrest."

**(Don't lecture me! Help me!)**

"Help me Lachlan! Help me!" I look down embarrassed as I pass one of my neighbors, a sweet little, older, Asian woman who knows just enough English for me to be embarrassed. "You're my brother, my older brother and instead of helping me you're fucking off. Fucking off and adding more and more shit for me to take care of."

**(So that's it? I'm fucked? You won't help me?)**

"There is nothing more I can do. What don't you understand about that?" I look up, my stomach turning at the sight of Evony waiting outside my door. "Finish the program. Do the therapy, work your shit out."

**(Lauren.)**

"I have to go." I shove my phone in my pocket, eyes shifting to door.

"Did you tell him?"

"Did I tell the violent, detoxing, alcoholic who happens to be on probation that the men who murdered our father just got off?" I look over at her, hand twisting the doorknob. "No, I didn't think it would be wise."

"Can I come in?"

"You're name is on the lease, legally I have no right to deny you entrance." I smirk to myself through a clenched jaw as I push the door open.

"I heard you went to see Dyson." The sound of the door closing behind me sends a wave of irritation down my spine. She really decided to come in, wonderful.

"What, did he run around telling everyone how unstable I am?"

"No, but you didn't exactly hide your feelings. Everyone in the building knows by now, some people outside as well-obviously."

"Great. They can add that to the list of things I am." I snort, pulling the refrigerator door open.

"Don't pay attention Lauren, tabloid garbage."

"Times? Huffington Post? CNN? MSNBC?" I can't help but laugh, grabbing a beer before slamming the door shut.

"Just a story of the moment, they'll find another juicy fact and move on."

"Oh I don't know Evony," I pause, using the bottle opener from the counter to open my first drink of the night. "The racist, mentally unbalanced, hypocrite, dyke who fingered the supposedly wrong men for the so-called crime of the decade, doesn't really sound like it will blow over all too quickly." I take a drink-and then another. "My job is at risk now."

"They can't fire you."

"For ethical reasons you bet your ass they can, and you know it." I snap, another drink.

"Jesus Lauren, the hospital knows about your sex life. We've gone to multiple fundraisers, my firm has donated a considerable amount of money to them, based on the fact of our relationship."

"Be very careful how easily you toss that word around." My eyes follow her hands as they run over her stomach. She's trying to discreetly adjust her dress as it continues to ride up from the bottom hem.

"It's going to blow over Lauren, I promise."

"All it takes Evony, all it takes is one comment, one accusation. It doesn't matter if it's true or not, it will stick with me for the rest of my career. It's doesn't matter that it isn't true. It doesn't matter that my father's partner, the man I grew up calling my uncle is black. It won't matter that the first crush I had was on his daughter. All that's going to matter is how you painted me."

"Oh come the fuck on Lauren, so fucking what. The truth is that in a month, in two months no one will remember this trial. The public will be focused on what a Kardashian is buying for lunch, who has a sextape or what NFL player is beating his wife now. Despite the near meaningless nickname, this trail was nothing special-to the public."

"You tore apart my character. Is that what you think of me?" I snort, the feeling of tears beginning to sneak up on me.

"Don't be such a woman Lauren, you know it's not. It was just-business."

"Business?" a snort escapes as I take another hearty drink.

"There is a reason you see the same ploy in every courtroom show, movie, book-it works. I don't care if he was as black as the ace of spades or simply two shade darker than you, I would have used the same line of attack. So would your little friend at the district attorney's office. It's just how the game is played. And if anyone, and I mean anyone else had mention seeing his face, then I promise you I would have went softer on you-but you were the only one. I didn't have a choice." She runs her hand over her face and looks away. "The sad truth of the matter is you're light and he's darker than you. Despite the current P.C. line, racism is still alive and everyone is afraid to admit it so they over compensate. They over react to the slightest sign of it and you know what, it works in every lawyer's benefit who uses it.

"What you're saying, it's unethical." I snap, my eyes narrowing further as she starts to laugh.

"Don't speak to me about ethical Lauren." she keeps laughing, walking passed me to the kitchen. "Not when you've admitted to me several times if they had ended up in your hands," she pauses grabbing herself a beer. "You'd let them die-gladly."

"See you're feeling awfully comfortable here again." My eyes watching her intently as she moves about the kitchen. "And it's different."

"No, this was my job. I didn't have a choice."

"You could have recused yourself."

"Shit Lauren, come on." She slams her bottle down on the island. "I took this case when it was just Jason Wallace. A millionaire, playboy who no one believed it could have been. Even you didn't believe it at first. You remember how many times you called the police stupid for even arresting him in the beginning?" her brow raising. "By the time the other two came it was too late, not to mention we weren't even together when I did. And let's be honest, we haven't stayed together long enough for me to do it."

"Oh I'm sorry if sharing a bed with the woman defending my father's killers aren't high on my list of turn-ons." I snort a chuckle, finishing off my beer.

"I'm sorry, that they got off Lauren. I'm sorry that I did what I had to do—but if you really want to blame someone for losing this case, blame your little friend."

"Bo?"

"No, but interesting that's where your mind went." She snorts, rolling her eyes at me. "I was talking about Dyson."

"Funny, he says the same thing."

"I bet he does." She nods, taking another drink. "There was so much shit I left out of their defense, he should have been able to win this case." She takes a considerably large drink.

"Oh, God Evony. This is a new level of pathetic for you." My head shaking as I walk into the kitchen, placing my empty bottle on the counter as I go for a new one.

"Right, don't believe me. But it's true, he blew the case." She stops and I turn to find out why, she's standing beside me, hand on my arm. "Jason Wallace was never going to prison, you could have had the Pope, President and a videotape all against him and he'd still walk free. Bryan and Taylor Wright should be in jail right now, and I am not the reason they aren't."

She holds my arm, eyes locked with my own.

I wish I could believe her, place just enough blame on Dyson so I could allow myself to collapse into her arms. Shift enough blame from her onto him so I wasn't alone now.

But I can't.

She is such a good liar, so good at manipulation she makes it seem like an art form.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Seventh Symphony—8:47 p.m.**_

"My sister is a cunt, who has teeth where her vagina should be, and a pile of rotted flesh where her heart should be." Vex says through a stone serious face, and I can't help but to make a face as I toss back another shot.

"That is a series of images I could have gone without ever picturing."

"Should have told you that before you decided to-"

"If that is a sexual reference you about to make, I would like to remind you I am drunk and feeling particularly violent."

"Be still my heart." He pours us both another refill before putting the bottle under the counter and pulling up a different one. "If you're aiming to drink me out of house and establishment at least do it on the good shit." He laughs and stares at me, I take it as he is waiting for me to finish off the last of the '_bad shit'_ in my glass-or maybe it's just another justification for myself.

"Why are you so—"

"Awesome? Sexy? Smoldering? Arousing?" his eyebrows raise the way they tend to do, his smirk taking over half of his face.

"Nice."

"Ah, we're at the mushy stage of your drunken, self-loathing spiral." He nods, filling my glass and then his own. "I'm not nice Lauren, never have been. I prefer it that way. But there are those very, very few people I-**almost** care about. Those few deserve a little effort sometimes."

"And I'm one of them, huh?" I laugh, tears filling my eyes as I down yet another shot.

"My club is packed, I have my first and fifth favorite dominatrix over there for the past hour all but begging me to play. But," he shrugs with a smirk, a drink from the bottle. "I'm over here babysitting you, so what do you think?"

I stare into his eyes, the only physical feature he shares with his sister beyond the darkness of their hair. They're dark, nearly void on a constant basis. There is some obscure and unique beauty to them. I know them well, more accurately I know his sister's well and his are merely a mirror.

No, that's wrong. There is a huge difference between them, deep within Vex I see emotion. Genuine emotion, genuine care, sort of like one of those poor dogs who have been abused in the past so they're timid. I think that's the perfect analogy to sum up Vex, because underneath all of the jagged edges, he's probably one of the softest people you'd ever meet.

His sister though, she was just a rabid pitbull because that's what she chose to be. That's what she wanted to be.

"I'm interrupting." I glance over to my left to find Bo standing there, eyes shifting between me and Vex.

"You tend to do that." I chuckle.

"You have to excuse her, she's drunk."

"Doctor Lewis actually drunk, that is an interesting concept." She gives us this intrigued smirk. "So, is this a privet party or is there room for one more?" she asks, already slipping out of her jacked and tossing it on the bartop as she hops onto the stool beside me. "Lemme get that." She points at the bottle which Vex doesn't hesitate to hand over, his lips curved into a curious smirk of his own.

"Would you like a glass?" I ask, pushing over Vex's empty one. She doesn't answer though, rather brings the bottle to her lips and showcases a very impressive lack of gag reflex. "Never mind." I can't help but laugh, it must be a full six or seven seconds before she slams the bottle down. Nothing but laugher escaping her as she uses the back of her left hand to wipe her mouth.

"Been a while since I did that." She says with this warm smile, eyes meeting mine.

"This should be interesting." I say under my breath, the first realization in hours that I may actually be anything other than sober.

"Always is when you're around."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Lauren's Apartment—11:17 p.m.**_

She's a different type of love than I imaged, not that I spent much time imagining it.

She just has a look about her, especially the her I met three years ago. I wonder if that girl in the bank is a different lover than the woman I have in front of me now.

Still even behind the sweet smile she seemed proud to display for me, there is still that devilish smirk just beneath the surface. Behind the warmth in her deep eyes there is still this hunger. Every explorative touch her skillful hands continue to make under the fabric of my shirt, controlled by a seemingly unwavering resolve. There is something in her touches though that tells me her resolve is a conscious effort rather than natural. A conscious effort which is seemingly not exclusive to her touches. Her tongue meticulously duels with mine with a dexterity I never dreamed possible. But even within the unbridled passion stirred with every movement, there is something beneath it, hidden.

She drags the tips of her miniscule nails from the base of my spine, over the curve of my hips, across my tensing stomach to meet in the middle. Her right thumb teasingly circling around my bellybutton as she slips her tongue away from mine, a gentle bite to my lip before pulling her mouth away entirely.

My eyes open to find her staring at me, this control of hers beginning to weigh on me. My brow raises as I stare at her, waiting to see what her next move would be.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure?" my eyes running along her jaw before settling on her lips.

"That you want to—that-you want to—um," she struggles, tripping over her words, but all I focus on it the huskiness to her whisper. The slight breathlessness as I feel her lax hold on my stomach tighten.

"To what?" a near insignificant question. I know more or less what her question will be, and despite the phrasing the answer will remain the same. My eyes never leaving her lips as my fingers undo the button of her jeans.

"To um," it's a breathless chuckle, my fingers slipping over the fabric. "To—make love?" it's another breathless chuckle, this one more nervous than the last.

"No." I say flatly, her jaw tenses at my response.

I look up to meet her eyes, an obvious whirlwind of emotions coming off of her in waves. Disappointment, nervousness, shyness, a sense of confusion and somewhat disbelief. If this were another time, another situation I would focus on how sweet and impressive it is that she is so controlled. I would focus on how despite how drunk, and aroused she is that she would take the time to make sure I, the fragile and pity-worthy one is in the right mindset to move forward. I would focus on how if no meant no, she would stop right now and there would not be an issue.

This isn't that time though.

Leaning in I brush my cheek against hers, tip of my tongue running along the outline of her ear earning me a soft, little moan. Keeping my lips gently pressed to her ear, a smirk pulls at them.

"Wrong verb." My words a whisper, tongue drawing her earlobe between my lips. "Fuck, would be the correct one." Tilting my head back, my eyes meeting hers as my hand wraps around her left one. She wants to look down at our hands as I guide hers under the hem of my slacks, but she keeps them on mine. "You can either be a part of that," My hand slips from hers, slowly sliding up her forearm stopping just below her elbow. "Or not."

She doesn't move, doesn't look away-just peers into my eyes.

I think she's looking for permission, maybe something that would comfort her that it's okay. Then I realize that it's not me she's looking for permission from, she's trying to decide if she is okay with this.

For a mere second, I feel like me again.

For a mere second I feel hesitation. I want to know why she is so hesitant. Why she seems so controlled and concerned. For a mere moment I want to know everything and anything there is to know about this woman. For a mere moment she feels like she could be my salvation.

Then her hand slips further down my stomach, her eyes drifting shut as she brings her lips to mine.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

_**Tuesday**_

.

.

_**Lauren's Apartment—3:47 a.m.**_

What did you do?

That's all I can seem to keep asking myself.

She's sound asleep, face buried deep in my pillow with her arm draped over my stomach. The sheet messily covering from the back of her knees to just above her waist. It's sexy beyond belief, it's sweet in so many ways. It's a moment, a vision anyone would love to have.

The only problem is that she isn't my girlfriend, in fact she's little more than a stranger. An extraordinary stranger who has this indescribable effect on me, but one none the less.

How can I apologize for this?

Shaking my head at myself, I carefully slip from her '_hold'_ and gather up a pair of scrubs from the closet floor. Quickly slipping into them before slipping out of the room. Not exactly sure what this would help. In fact more damage would probably be done if she woke to find me sleeping on my couch rather than with her.

Maybe I could just stay awake, be up already when she awakes and then simply say that's why I had fled.

Oh God, what am I going to say to her?

Better question, how am I going to explain the pictures of Evony?

I run my hand through my hair, mind flooding with questions as I make my way down the stairs. Eyes catching this small, envelope near my door. It was just by chance I happened to look that way, otherwise I wouldn't have seen it.

Was it there when we came in?

It couldn't have been, we would have stepped on it. Maybe not stopped what we were doing on our dash upstairs but it would have moved, or at least been noticed.

Hesitantly I pick it up and open the envelope, it's not sealed just the flap folded within. I start to pull out the card equally as hesitant, a designed engraving at the top in silver and for a moment my heart speeds.

Did Evony stop by and see? Does it matter if she did? Do I really care? Would she really write a note rather than make a scene?

Curiosity and hesitation mixing as I finish pulling it free.

** _There was a quote I saw once, reminded me so_

_Very much of you, my dearest doctor;_

.

'_I am the sole designer of my own ruin. _

_For underneath the illusion of my smile, _

_The illusion of my amiability_

_The one true thing I desire is decay._

_My own.'_

.

_Perhaps that's why you threw Daddy's trial, huh?_

_Deepest Condolences. _**

.

.

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>Rose-Crest Cemetery—4:21 a.m. <strong>_

"Father," I say it as if I am greeting someone actually present, my eyes focused on the date of his death rather than anything else. "It seems almost cliché for me to be here. Poor, broken girl at daddy's grave swearing-something." I snort at myself, snort at the joke I have become. "I can't promise you justice-or revenge. Honestly it's a thin line between the two and I'm not quite sure where I fall in this moment, I'm not sure where I'll stand when confronted with the choice. I suppose I came here for comfort, a way to feel close to you and in that symbolically convince myself that what I am about to do is wrong. That you would disapprove. But the thing is that you always taught us that justice was never something to ignore. So many times you worked yourself to death for justice, for anyone who deserved it. I don't know what I'm going to do to make this right. But, I promise I will."

I stare at the date, and I can honestly say without an ounce of hesitation that I feel-numb.

I remember this feeling, this same feeling I had staring up into Jason Wallace's eyes.

Perhaps I was wrong-to a degree.

I don't believe a whole life can change in an instant, but I do believe a person can.


	3. Too Late

_**Chapter Two: Too Late**_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

.

.

.

_**Friday**_

.

.

_**Saint Mark's Hospital—2:54 p.m.**_

"I told you I was fine," he continues to tell me for the umpteenth time how he was right. "I think you just wanted to peek at the merchandise." I glance up from his chart to see him pointing at his abs, smirking and nodding goofily.

"You're not my type." I grin, eyes going back down to his chart as I continue checking off the required boxes.

"Pfft. I'm everybody's type."

"Is that so?" I nod, only half paying attention to him.

"I am. I assure you."

"You assure me?" my left brow raises, checking the last box before looking back up at him. "I'm sure your wife would love to know that."

"Lil' mama?" he chuckles, smirk growing into the widest of smiles.

I just nod and hand him an extra scrub top I had found him. He was a nice enough guy, good at his job but his flirty nature tended to put me off. Or at least it did until I realized he was more playful than flirty, and that he was similar to a whipped puppy dog when it came to his new wife. Anytime she was even mentioned he couldn't help but to smile. I've only seen him a few times, and only once outside of work by pure chance. I wouldn't consider him a friend or anything but on normal occasions it would be good to see him.

Too bad normal has lost it's meaning to me.

"Well Detective, tell Lil' Mama to make sure you're careful with those ribs. A strong enough hit and that fracture can easily become a break."

"Yeah, yeah." His lips curve into this smirk, a slight glisten to his eyes. "I'll be sure to tell her." He chuckles and I just shake my head, a grin coming across my lips. "Come on, it's still the honeymoon phase Doc, you know?"

"What the hell Hale, I been looking all over for you?" both me and him look to the left, the curtain flying open. "Lauren?"

"Bo?" I find myself standing up straight, rather than leaning against the counter.

"You two know each other?" he asks curiously looking between the two of us. I expect her to say something, but she just stares at me, leaving us in this awkward silence. "Oh." He chuckles, pausing as he throws on the shirt finally. "You two _**know**_ each other."

"Can you give us a moment?" she asks softly, eyes never leaving mine.

"Yes, of course. We're all done here anyway." I smile politely and nod, hand grabbing the chart instinctively as I prepare to escape.

"Ah, not so fast Doc." Hale's words accompanied by as consistent chuckle as he slips off the bed. "She meant little ol' me."

"Hey." She says softly once he's made his exit, she has this smile but it's more nervous and wounded than anything.

"Hi." I swallow at the sudden dryness in my throat. "I've been meaning to call you."

"You don't have my number."

"Right." I can't help but chuckle. "I meant, well I'm not exactly sure how I was going to do it, but I really did want to get a hold of you."

"Really?"

"Yes, to apologize."

"To apologize?"

"Right."

"Right?"

"What?"

"I feel like we're in an Elvis Castello bit here. Who's on first?" she chuckles, rolling her eyes I assume at herself. "Let's try this again, you wanted to apologize why?"

"Oh, my apology list is quite long." It a timid chuckle now filling the room as I lean my back against the counter, arms folding across my stomach. "I guess the first thing I could apologize for is not bothering to ask for your number."

"Really? That's first on the list?" her brow raises, this awkward sort of smile that let's me know it was a bad choice.

"As I said it's a long list. The next thing I could apologize for would be um, getting you extremely drunk."

"I'm sensing you're going to need an apology list for the initial apology list."

"That bad?" I nod, looking away from her for a moment. "Okay, how about this."

"Oh, make it good. You're on the three strike principle here Doc."

"God, I hate baseball." I can't help but laugh. "I'm not good at apologies, they're either written out for me or like in my previous relationship we just-didn't use them."

"Yeah, about that." She smirks, this annoyed chuckle escaping her. It's almost funny in a sense, she's trying so hard not to show she's upset, but the more she tries to hide it, the more it shows.

"I'm sorry that I left-you there-without a note. I just," I can't help but hesitate, my eyes falling to her feet as the words of my little 'love note' repeat in the back of my mind. "I was not in the right mindset. What happened between us though, it's not something I regret, but it shouldn't have happened."

"Because of-your past relationship?"

"No, no." I shake my head, looking back up to meet her eyes. "It's nothing like that, it's just that you were drunk as was I. I tried to drown my pain," I can't help the way my jaw clenches at the word. "It wasn't the mature thing to do, and running away from the aftermath wasn't either."

"Oh."

"I really don't want you to think that I am like that."

"Lauren, I don't think you're like anything. I understand what happened, I knew what it was about. I just-I guess was kind of hoping that—"

"I wouldn't have vanished?"

"No, well that of course, but I was also hoping that maybe we'd have exchanged numbers."

"Oh." I nod, taking her words in carefully. "Oh? You mean like—"

"Like maybe see each other more than when we just happen to bump into one another."

"N-okay." I can't help this smile that sneaks up on me, a smile that only grows when she returns it. She reaches into her pocket pulling out her phone and walks over to hand it to me.

I know I shouldn't.

I should politely reject the offer. I should walk away from this-whatever this is now. It's already far more complicated than I need. It's far more distracting than I can allow.

But nonetheless I take the phone from her, quickly typing in my number.

"Apple huh?" I smirk, thumb hesitating above the call button.

"That a problem?"

"No, no. I just prefer Droid." My smile fades as my thumb presses the button, a mere second later there is a vibration in my pants' pocket. Too late to go back now.

"Well everyone is entitled to their opinion." She smirks taking her phone back, her fingers gently grazing mine as she does. "Well, no rest for the wicked." She pointlessly gestures behind herself. "So no sleep for the good guys."

"Of course." I flash her a polite smile, the same one I've kept on my face for days now as she walks away.

I know I should say goodbye now-but something keeps me from doing so.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Outside McConnell's Pub—5:22 p.m.**_

Just the sight of him induces a curling in the pit of my stomach. It's interesting though, I don't really feel anything emotionally, but I can't help the physiological response. I shift in my seat, the bottom of the steering wheel digging into the top of my thighs.

"Don't you ever get tired of drinking?" I say aloud, watching him lean against the brick wall, pounding back another beer, ironically the same time I take a drink of coffee.

When I had been here at lunch I counted his total of four, and in the fifteen minutes I've been here this is his second.

There are plus sides of his over indulgence though. First being that there was always the possibility he'd get so drunk he would drive himself off a bridge. Second being that it is nearly inevitable for him not to slip up on one of his little stupors.

How he hasn't noticed me yet is near laughable.

It's been days now that I've been here, parked across the street in the same spot just watching—waiting.

The real question though, was what exactly am I waiting for?

I'm not delusional enough to think I am going to kill him. True there are a lot of pros there, and after all it's not hard to justify. I just lack a skillset to actually be able to do it, well that's not exactly true. I have a very unique and useful skillset in the way of killing someone, though I lack strength to handle any complications that may arise.

I've thought it through quite a bit-I just don't think I can bring myself to that point though.

Then of course, there is always the possibility my mind may change.

Chuckling to myself I take another sip of my cooling coffee, eyes narrowing as I see Taylor coming up to greet his brother. I can't hear what they say, but it's something they laugh about. Knowing them probably something about torturing small, defenseless animals.

I just happen to look down at the passenger seat, the screen of my phone lit up with an unknown number written across the screen. At first I feel the subtle change in my heart rate. Had my little friend with the notes decided to change the game?

Then I remember a curious lapse of judgment of mine just a few hours ago.

"Hello?"

_**(Bad time?)**_

"Um," I look back up at the brothers who seem to have absolutely no motivation to move anytime soon. "Nope, it's fine actually."

_**(You sure?)**_

"Mm-hm." I take another sip, the realization my reply might come off as rude not even occurring until it's too late.

_**(I know it's soon, I don't want you to think I'm a stalker or worse-needy.) **_

"I don't think either."

_**(Really?)**_

"Really, I think you're persistent though."

_**(Well no argument there, I am quite persistent. It's part of my charm.)**_

"Modesty is not though I see."

_**(I can be modest.)**_

"Can you now?" I can't help but raise a brow, taking another drink.

_**(Well, I can fake it.)**_

"That would be interesting to see."

_**(You know, for not knowing me so well you pick on me quite a bit.)**_

"I would choose the term teasing over picking, but regardless, something tells me you can take it."

_**(Have you been drinking?)**_ She asks though a subtle laughter.

"No, why?" odd question to ask me.

_**(Well just a few hours ago you were pretty shy and timid, now you're rather-outgoing.)**_

"I do better in non-face to face situations." That and I'm slightly distracted stalking my father's killers so I'm not completely focused on my word choices. "I'm even better with written words."

_**(That's an interesting thought.)**_

"With your mind, I am quite sure it is."

_**(Hey! Play nice.)**_ She laughs again, this time though I hear rustling in the background and almost immediately there is a shush. _**(Hey, I'm going to have to go. But are you available tonight, say seven thirty-ish?)**_

"Um," SAY NO! SAY NO LAUREN! "I am."

_**(I see. Well I'm free then too.)**_

"Is this you asking me out?"

_**(Yeah.)**_ She laughs nervously, and I can't help but smile. She seems slightly distracted and suddenly I remember she is a cop. Most likely the rustling was her partner returning, thus the sudden change in her behavior. _**(I really had a more articulate way of doing this-)**_

"You? Articulate?"

_**(I can be.)**_ She laughs again, the sound of her shushing someone following. _**(I'll be there to pick you up at seven-thirty.)**_

"How do you know where I live?" I roll my eyes at myself, the second I hear the question aloud I can't help but to shake my head at myself.

_**(Really?)**_

"I heard it." This time it's my nervous chuckle that fills the silence. "I'll see you at seven-thirty."

I shake my head at myself once again, tossing my phone back down onto the seat.

I have completely lost my mind.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Lauren's Apartment Building—7:01 p.m.**_

"You know, I can't remember the last time I came home and didn't find someone I hated standing outside my door."

"You don't hate me." He says flashing me his wolf grin, standing up straight as I approach.

"You're right, I don't." It would have made it easier if I did, no now I just-feel nothing toward him. Actually I feel quite a bit annoyance at his incompetence but that is another story. "But that doesn't exactly mean I want to see you."

"We're going to get through this." He says firmly, hand going to my shoulder.

"I'm not exactly sure what is happening right now, but I am running late." I can't help but to make a face as I maneuver my shoulder from his lax hold.

"Oh, you're going out?"

"Something like that." I sigh, nodding as I pull my keys from my pocket.

"That's good, you need to start moving forward."

"Thanks for the advice Doctor Phil," twisting the key in the lock I look over to him, ignoring the unusual feeling I'm getting under his gaze. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, I just really wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Well here I am." I shrug, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside. I would hate for him to think it was an invitation. "Goodnight."

"Lauren." His call of my name followed by the sound of his hand slamming against the door startling me, but surprisingly I don't jump.

I spin around, eyes narrowing more out of surprise than anything.

His hand is held firm and he's just staring at me, looking for something I don't quite understand. He doesn't look angry or even drunk, but there is something off about him. Something I hadn't seen before, guess this was a week for surprises.

It takes me a second to assess him, feel assured that he wasn't about to have an episode of some kind. Once I'm sure I grip the doorknob, eyes peering into his as my jaw stays tight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, or thinking about doing Lauren, drop it now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sure." He snorts, shaking his head at me like one would at their disobedient child.

"I'm sorry if at some point I had given you the impression that I am your responsibility," I push the door just a bit against his hold. "But I am far from it."

"Maybe-"

"No maybe about it—"

"Maybe." His tone hardens slightly, enough to catch my ear. "But it doesn't mean I don't care about you."

"If you were so worried about my mental state, about my wellbeing then you should have done your job." I see his elbow bend slightly as his eyes finally fall from mine, a silent admission of defeat. "Goodnight Dyson." I repeat myself, pushing the door closed.

The second the click of the lock reaches my ears I realize what he was actually saying.

Did he know what I was doing? Did he have a hunch? Or was he just being general?

Whatever the answer, I couldn't focus on it now-I don't have time.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Lincoln Park—7:59 p.m.**_

"This was a bad idea." She says softly, hands in her jacket pockets as she looks down at the sidewalk. I'm not quite sure if she actually meant to say it aloud or not.

"No." I say almost automatically, shaking my head as I do.

"Really?" she tilts her head to the side, this _'seriously'_ look written over her features.

"Honestly, it's not a bad idea. Just-unique."

"And you don't like unique?" she lets out this sort of chuckle.

"I am partial on the subject." Now it's my turn to chuckle. "There are specific reasons people choose to do first date clichés."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"I'm sure you have some type of facts or data to prove you are once again right, huh?"

"Not off the top of my head." My lips curve into a smirk. "In general you do a movie and dinner for the fact that you don't have to talk through the movie, and then at dinner you have something to talk about. You do dinner because it is easy to make conversation about the food, about the service or people around you. Concerts another way to avoid too much conversation, which also gives you something to talk about on the way home."

"So every other first date idea is shit then?"

"No, I didn't say that." I stifle my chuckle, this subtle feeling she is taking my words personally.

"Kind of did." She falls silent, her attention shifting to a couple walking passed us. "So what about like-amusement parks or shit?"

"Actually amusement parks are a great first date idea."

"Hm, big fan of rollercoasters Doc?"

"No, I hate heights." My chuckle turning into a laugh at the look she's giving me. A look that basically says _'I can't win'_, it's cute. "The short of it is that there is a certain mixture of biological and psychological factors that come into play. Basically the most unscientific way I can think of to say this is that the rush of excitement you experience in the act, along with the rush of relief afterward becomes associated with the person you're with. Thus amusement parks and such are excellent first dates."

"Okay," she smiles, shaking her head as she looks away from me. "I see."

"I'm sorry, I have a tendency to—"

"It's okay, more than actually." She looks over at me, this amazingly beautiful smile taking over her face. "I like the geek-speak. It's this really interesting mix of adorable and sexy." She subtly bites her bottom lip, eyes falling to my lips as she finishes her sentence. I can't help but to smile shyly, a slight rush of heat attacking my cheeks.

"Well-thank you." I have to look away so I look down at my feet just as I step over a branch. "I really wasn't saying anything is wrong with this. Just pointing out that it's different."

"Want to know my thought process behind it?" she looks over at me with this little smirk.

"You had a thought process?" I try not to chuckle but it escapes regardless my efforts, I don't mind though considering it earns a slight nudge from her arm.

"I did actually. It's rare, but I can have them."

"Oh, well then by all means."

"See it's kinda late and any place that would be appropriate to take you to dinner requires a reservation so that was out. I have a problem with sitting still for long periods of time so the movies was kind of ify. Then I was like well bar, but something about taking you to your-I'm assuming ex's brother's bar is a little ify too." She chuckles. "I would have said my place and ordered takeout but my sister and Hale are there, not to mention I didn't want you getting the wrong impression."

"You really did have a thought process, I'm impressed."

"I can be impressive from time to time."

My initial thought was to make a joke about her performance the other night, it would have been complimentary, but I don't think it would be wise to bring that back up. So instead I just glance over at her flashing a smile that seems impossible to get rid of.

"So Lil' Mama is actually your sister?"

"That would be correct. Kenzi and-that's my sister." I just nod. "Kenzi and him have had a whirlwind romance to say the least."

"Don't approve?"

"No, I do whole heartedly. They were friends for a while before, that type of friends where it doesn't make sense they're only friends."

"Hm, must be nice."

"Never experienced that?" She glances over at me.

"No, only ever had one relationship and it certainly wasn't that." I admit.

"While we're on that topic." She laughs nervously. "There's actually something I need to ask you."

"Ah, I've been wondering when this would come up." The neutrality of my smile turning into one of awkwardness.

"I wasn't snooping, I was just looking for you—but-"

"You saw the pictures." I finish for her nodding.

"They weren't exactly hidden."

"No, they weren't."

"I mean it's not really my business, but that was a big what the hell moment for me. Then of course the fact you were missing took presentence."

"This has gone downhill pretty fast." I'm pretty sure I meant to say that to myself.

"There's a lot of questions I could ask, hell pretty curious, but there's really only one that matters right now."

"That would be?"

"Just exactly how serious are you about this?"

"About this-as in us?" my brow furrows, but I don't look over this time.

"That sounded a little more creepy than I hopped. I just, she did what she did and you still have pictures on display. Not to mention some stuff in your apartment didn't really seem—you."

"Oh boy." I can't help but sigh, my hand running through my hair.

"I'm not asking for a commitment or anything, don't worry. I'm not **that** crazy, but I've done the juggling game. I've done the other woman game too. Probably not the best thing to put out there right now, but it's true."

"I actually find your honesty refreshing."

"Then I really hope that you don't take offense to this next bit." She slows to a stop giving me no choice but the do the same. I could stay beside her, keep looking down. I could do a lot, but what I do is maneuver myself so I'm standing in front of her. Eyes locked with hers. "I like you, and it may sound crazy, but I think there is potential for-something." She laughs, smiling shyly. "But I don't want to invest the time if in another week or three or six you're just going back to her."

"Six huh? Pretty presumptuous you'll be around that long." It takes a second, but I smirk letting her know there is no malicious intent to my words. "For the past two years as my world has come apart in more ways than I ever expected she's been there for me-on and off in a relationship capacity. She is all I know in regards to a relationship, and it would be easy to go back into this life that I have with her. But something being easy and wanting something are two very different things."

"Um?"

"I guess it's my long way of saying that the situation with her is complicated for several reasons, but as far as this is concerned, she isn't a factor."

"Oh." Her eyes move back up my face to meet my eyes, there is this faintly unknown glisten to her eyes.

It's hope.

I should walk away now.

Hell I should run away now.

I should get as far away from her as possible as quick as possible. I'm like a black hole, sucking in everyone and everything before destroying them.

If I wanted to take a cold hard look in the mirror, deal with the reality of shit rather than cowering in the comfort of numbness. If I could do that, then I would be able to admit that I'm not the only one suffering. I would be able to acknowledge that despite their part in it all, all Dyson and Evony want to do is make sure I'm okay. Acknowledge that locking my brother away wasn't the most constructive or productive option. Acknowledge that rushing back to work wasn't the wisest decision. Acknowledge that I am heading down a dark path with it's outcome uncertain.

But beyond the brief moments of clarity I find myself having in this woman's presence, I won't.

My eyes fall to her lips as I lean in just enough to let her know she has permission, something she takes full advantage of without hesitation.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Outside McConnell's Pub—11:51 p.m.**_

I twist the keys in the ignition turning the engine off. My eyes instantly finding his truck, the license plate engraved into my memory. The bar was closed, closed almost an hour ago but considering his uncle is the owner, he has free run of the place. My eyes dance over the otherwise vacant, shit-hole parking lot, searching for Taylor's motorcycle, but it's long gone.

My eyes drifting down to the radio clock which still has about another thirty seconds before shutting off.

I can't help the way my mind wanders back to the events of earlier. My unique date with Bo. I feel my lips preparing to fix into a smile.

True the date hadn't lasted much longer after our kiss, but it was enough to keep me thinking about her.

I know I shouldn't be, especially not now. I need to find a way to keep these two parts of my life VERY separate. There was just this image of her smiling I can't shake. The feel of her arm brushing against mine. The feel of her lips covering my own.

I always did say she was trouble, and by definition trouble is distracting.

I can't help but chuckle at my own thought, a little voice inside of my mind telling me I should just go home growing louder and louder.

"Fuck it." I sigh out, sitting up straight as I reach for my keys.

Too late.

That's all that goes through my mind as my window shatters onto me.

My arm going up to protect my face on instinct, but there is already a hand wrapped around my throat attempting to pull me out through the new opening. My hands gripping a forearm as I struggle for breath. My vision blurring with every breath escaping.

Too late.


	4. No Way Back

**A.N. **First and foremost just want to say thank you for all of the R&R, F&F, as you know I love to know how you all are feeling about the direction and such.

Also I've appeared to have lacked on my PRing in the chapter after the prolog. I meant Ms. NOT Mrs. Private NOT privet. And lastly, it's not so much an error as let me clarify. Yes the bank occurred on Halloween of 2010, Lauren makes a reference saying 3 years instead of 4. It's September in the story not October, thus she was speaking in a general specific sense since it has not technically been 4 years.

Sorry again for errors and hopes that clears things up. Thank you all again

Pokie.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Three: No Way Back<strong>_

**(Lauren's POV)**

.

.

.

**Saturday**

.

.

_**McConnell's Pub—12:05 a.m.**_

"I'm fucking telling you, I got the bitch right here. The fuck do you mean where? Here! McConnell's place. No she ain't dead-not yet anyway. She's just passed out on the floor. No stupid, she ain't drunk I knocked her ass out."

The sound of his panic filled and quickly elevating voice continues pulling me toward consciousness. I feel my hand tremble and I hold my breath, praying her didn't see it. There is this pause, this silence and I can swear he saw. He knows I'm awake, his footsteps prove that.

Or maybe not.

The steps grow further and this terrifying silence I find myself stalled in dulls as the faint sound of his voice begins filling it.

I open my eyes, first just to half mass to survey my surroundings, but there's nothing out of the ordinary. It's dark and smells like shit, but then again what is there to expect from a run down, shithole in the middle of nowhere.

The repeated trembling in my right hand grabs my attention, but I don't feel like there is any extensive damage done. Everything feels normal, my throat sore along with my neck. I'm sure I have a rather nasty bruise forming on my lower back, but nothing else. Which is why I can't figure out the termer, temporary most likely, something brought on by extreme stress or a bruise on a nerve possibly.

I hear his footsteps again as I start to push myself up. I could run, couldn't I? I don't feel like there is anything wrong with my legs. I could try and fight him-I don't have the strength or skill. I could let him just kill me, probably be doing me a favor at this point.

"Sit down." He orders, bottom of his boot hitting my ribs giving me no choice but to fall back onto my face. "Do you know inconvenient this is?" another kick to my ribs, another yell of pain escaping. "This was completely pointless!" the volume behind his words continuing to grow. His hand wraps around the back of my neck pulling me up into a seated position. He shoves my shoulder, pushing me backward into the foundation of the bar, a pair of stools to my right getting knocked to the ground.

"You didn't have to break into my car and—"

"And what? Assault you?"

"If we're speaking in the literal sense this would be battery, not assault." I chuckle through a grown of pain, hands needless pressed against my right ribcage, as if it would help the pain.

"Fucking educated bitches." He snorts, kicking my foot as he runs his hand through what hair he has. "So what, you was coming here to kill me? Get revenge for daddy?"

"No." my answer coming through a clenched jaw, eyes narrowing as I look up into his.

"Then what, want the dick." He laughs, kicking my foot again.

"No."

"Well if you don't want to kill me and you don't want the dick, the what the fuck are you doing watching me?"

"Honestly?" I feel my brow raise as I smirk.

"Naw bitch, I want you to lie to me."

"I'm not even sure." I watch him as he just stares down at me.

"You're not sure?" he laughs, shaking his head as he takes a step back. "So let me get this straight, you been riding around following me, stalking me and you ain't even sure why?"

"Well, when you say it like that." I can't help but laugh to myself, a surge of pain shooting up from my ribcage through my chest.

"You know how stupid that shit is?" he asks, leaning back against a table top. "What I don't get is why me?"

"Why the bank?"

"Naw, naw I mean why me? It was Jason who pulled the trigger, killed your old man. I ain't have shit to do with that."

"Honestly," I press my palms against the floor, pushing myself up more into a seated position rather than a pathetic slump. "You're the stupidest. You were the easiest to get to, to keep track of, same routines and behavior."

"Opportunity?" his features scrunch as he nods, sort of like he approves. "It's what the bank was. Just a bet, could have been any one." He shoves his hands in his shabby jeans' pockets. "Make you feel better to know?"

"Nothing can make me feel better." I admit aloud, actually it's the first time I admit it at all. No amount of blame I can assign, no amount of anger-none of it will make me feel better.

"Naw, didn't think it would."

"You can quit the nice guy game. I know what you are. I know what's going to happen. I just don't know why you're waiting. What, is Jason coming? Need to wait for him?"

"You know, my old man used to beat my mom-I killed him. Then my stepfather did the same shit, killed him too. Apart from being pieces of shit, you know what they had in common?" he titles his head, eyes staying locked with my own. "Neither made me feel better. Call it what you will, justice or revenge, it didn't take the pain away. It didn't make me unsee what I seen. Didn't set me free from that person I became because of it."

"You're looking for sympathy-from me?" I snort, words barely making it through a clenched jaw.

"Shit, I don't want no sympathy. I'm trying to give you a piece of mind. If you haven't already, you will start to run through a list of-regrets. Cause see I been where you at, shot six times. Thought I was going to die, difference is I made it and you, well you ain't got that option. My point though, is when you're doing that, you're gonna wonder if killing us, if that would have made a difference."

"Fuck you." I push at the floor, the pain resonating in my chest and an unwavering anger just enough to keep me from giving into my fear.

"I ain't never killed a woman before." He admits, but his voice changes and in this moment, I realize without a doubt I'm not making it out of this. "I've beaten them before, but never killed one." He reaches around his back pulling out a small, semi-automatic, handgun. I can't tell what model, though in the grand scheme of things, I don't think it matters much now. "Get on your knees." He orders, eyes going to the ground.

I do as he says, pushing myself onto my knee. Eyes wandering to my far right where the door is, I wonder if I could make it there. Probably not, just end up getting shot in the back, not exactly how I would want to die.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, hands pressed against the tops of my thighs to keep my balance.

"Do you—want a minute to pray or some shit?" he asks, and I would have told him to go fuck himself again-except, my fingers press against something hard in my pocket.

"Y-yes, please." A vile taste fills my mouth at the words, me saying please to him but it's a necessary evil.

I fake a sob, allowing tears to slip down my cheeks. Forcing another sob, I lean over moving both hands up to my stomach. I take a breath, left hand holding firm as I lean down further forcing another sob. My right hand slipping inside my pocket pulling out a smaller, flip blade knife.

I had completely forgotten I had been carrying it until I felt.

I force another sob as I push the blade open, but I do it wrong—the blade cutting my leg, making the sob sound genuine.

"Alright, it's enough." He barks, left hand pushing my head back up by my forehead, right hand holding the gun aimed just inches away.

This voice in the back of mind shrieks that I'm not cut out for this, I won't do anything other than piss him off. I won't do anything other than make him mad and then, who knows what will happen before he finally killed me.

There is another voice, a dark and angry voice that screams this is my opportunity. Do it. End it here and now. It won't be hard. He deserves it. Shove the blade into him and that it'll be over. Remember I made my father a promise. He deserves to die, not me.

Then there is this last voice, it's not screaming or shrieking. It's not even a panicked voice. It's just a calm voice, a voice that says simply _'I don't want to die'_.

I hold my breath, looking up into his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says, his elbow tightening.

Whether it be a conscious action-or one of instinct I bring my arm up in this bent angle, the blade slicing through the skin on his wrist like clothe. The gun falling to the floor as he yells out in pain, stumbling backward.

I jump up to my feet the best I can, already angled for the door. I run as fast as I can toward the door, never once looking back.

His hand grabs a hold of my shoulder pulling me backward before throwing me onto a table.

He's yelling something, I can't hear him—or rather I can't make out the words. My head turned to my left, eyes on the door.

So close.

He's managed to get between my legs and though I'm struggling against him, kicking out, his position prevents them from doing anything other than waste energy. His left hand holding my right shoulder against the table. His right forearm digging into my other shoulder nearly immobilizing it as his hand covers my mouth.

I try and twist my head, try and break free from the hold. His blood running down my face, covering my mouth, traces slipping passed my lips as I struggle to breathe. My left hand ripping at his shirt the best it can, given the limited mobility it's given.

I feel a familiar feeling of lightheadedness, my vision starting to blur.

This is it.

But-it's not.

I feel his weight lessen, hand leaving my mouth. Gasping for breath, lightheadedness and lack of balance still very present as I bolt upright. I just stare at him and he's staring at me just as surprised. One deer in headlights staring down another.

He looks down at his stomach and I follow his line of sight, his hands covering the left side of his stomach just below the ribcage.

Then my eyes move over myself, stopping at my blood laced hand gripping my knife.

I hadn't even realized I had still been holding it.

He drops to his knees and then his side.

His gasping doesn't last but seconds, blood quickly pooling underneath him and I find myself frozen.

"Holy shit." I breathe out, slipping off the table top and taking the few steps toward him. "Holy shit." I repeat, kicking his foot with my own. "Holy shit." I say a little louder upon realizing he's dead. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I feel my heart beginning to race fast than I ever thought possible.

I look down at my hand, at the bloody knife still in it.

I'm so fucked.

I toss the knife on the table behind me before jogging around the bar, quickly grabbing the phone. The fingers of my left hand on the buttons, the nine pressed without a thought. Then I freeze, my eyes catching my reflection on the derelict mirror above the sorry excuse for a sink.

'_Hang up the phone Lauren.'_

"It was self-defense."

'_Don't be stupid.'_

"It was self-defense. Most I can get is probation."

'_Sure, probation with your career over. All that school down the drain, all the hard work gone away. You'll be flipping burgers at Burger King for the rest of your life, labeled a murder.'_

"I have to call the cops."

'_Sure. Explain to them why you were here and what you've been doing. Explain why you're carrying a knife while doing so. Explain how you expected this to turn out any other way than violent. Explain how if it was merely self-defense you choose to twist the knife.'_

"I—I don't remember doing it."

'_That will work well, claim insanity. Not even Evony will be able to convince a jury of that one.'_

"Fuck."

'_Correction, you're fucked. We're fucked.'_

"Okay." I breathe out, my heart slowing. "Now what?"

'_You know what to do Lauren, so do it.'_

I pull one of those white hand towels from inside the sink. Quickly wiping down the phone in it's entirety. Using the towel I pull open the cabinet doors beneath the sink finding a can of Ajax, several Windex bottles and then what I need, a bottle of bleach.

"Lucky me." I snort to myself.

Standing back up I use my foot to kick shut the doors, my eyes locking on my reflection once again-I look away. Hastily I make my way back around the bar. Tossing the towel on the table I grab my knife, closing it and shoving it back in my pocket. As I do the realization that my other pocket is empty hitting me. Clenching my jaw I kneel down, hand patting his left pocket-it's his phone. I shove it in my back pocket and then go for the other, it's mine this time. I shove it in my other pocket as I stand.

I grab the towel, opening the bleach and then move back to his body.

I find myself just looking down at him-I feel nothing.

Kneeling back down I pour a decent amount of bleach over his hands, then his torso and lastly his face. I walk up the few feet to where he had me laying and pour nearly what's left over the floor. Then the last bit I pour over the table top when he hand pinned me.

I toss the bottle onto the floor, keeping ahold of the towel as I walk the last few feet to the door.

I stop, door open ready for me to run, but I can't help but to glance behind myself and the ruins.

No way back now.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Ducky's Carwash—1:22 a.m.**_

I toss a bunched up pile of my jacket, shirt and towel from the bar into the trunk. Luckily my gym bag still in there providing me with a hoddie and a towel which saved me trying to clean off with a thousand paper towels. Slamming the trunk shut I walk around my car, a nice new shine to it. Looks flawless, only problem being my driver side window is missing.

Win some, lose some.

I feel a vibration in my pocket just as I go to open my door.

_**Bo:**__ Are you still up? __**(1:24 a.m.)**_

"Now is so not the time." I sigh to myself, running my hand through my hair.

'_You'll need an alibi. You're not a murder, no one would expect you to kill Bryan Wright and then have a conversation with Officer Friendly, thirty minutes later.'_

_**Me:**__ Yeah. __**(1:25 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Yeah? I wasn't aware you used words like that. __**(1:25 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I'm full of surprises. __**(1:25 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ I see. __**(1:25 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Everything alright? __**(1:26 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Yeah, fine. __**(1:26 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ I just got called in. __**(1:26 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Everything okay? __**(1:26 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Yeah, yeah. Just a murder at some bar. Problem with being a new detective, you get the shit end of all the deals. __**(1:26 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ A murder at a bar? __**(1:27 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Yeah, probably a drunken dispute or some shit. I just remember you saying that you were up late. __**(1:27 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Yes, no problem. This bar though, which one is it? __**(1:27 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Why? __**(1:27 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Curious. __**(1:27 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Did you murder someone Dr. Lewis? Trying to cover your tracks? LOL __**(1:28 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ You caught me. __**(1:28 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Some shithole on Ashland I think. Mc-something. __**(1:28 a.m.)**_

_**.**_

"Fuck!" my semi-yell covered by the sound of a passing truck.

'_Relax. They'll find his body, that's it.'_

"Bullshit." I answer myself, sliding into my seat.

.

_**Me:**__ Mc-Something? Sounds like a great name for a bar. __**(1:30 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Smartass. Lol. I can't remember, visit so many shitholes they all blend together, you know? __**(1:30 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I do. __**(1:30 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Well, we're going to be there any minute so thanks for keeping me company. __**(1:30 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ No thanks required. __**(1:31 a.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Goodnight Lauren. __**(1:31 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Be careful. __**(1:31 a.m.)**_

_**Bo: **__Always am :)__** (1:32 a.m.)**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>.<strong>_

_**.**_

_**Saint Mark's Hospital—8:27 a.m.**_

_**-( Doctor Lauren Lewis, a rising star and medical savant is now the talk of the city. While her name first became known to the public in two-thousand and ten for what is now known as the crime of the decade, her success and charity work kept her name circulating for other reasons. With a seemingly unstoppable career on the rise, ties to local politicians and consistently on the list of who is who, it seemed to be a slam dunk that the men responsible for the bank massacre would be put away. But, was something going on behind the scenes? Does Doctor Lewis have a dark secret?**_

_**(Well Christina, you never quite know in these situations. I've met the woman at a charity fundraiser just last year and she seemed nice, but like the situation with serial killers-you just never know.)-**_

"That's great, I'm now being equated to a serial killer." I snort at the two women on CNN.

"It's not ideal." Nadia says, leaning back in her chair and clicking off the television on the wall before tossing the remote down on her cluttered desk.

"Should I be concerned?"

"You shouldn't be complacent."

"Nadia we go back years, you can't possibly think that—"

"That you're racist and insane? No, of course not. But my job as chief of surgery is to protect this hospital and it's interest."

"So what are you telling me?"

"I'm telling you that the hype surrounding your name and career has taken a turn from spectacular to well, in your words being equated to a serial killer. You still have backers, and the board feels that the money donated by Lexington and Devereaux has-bought another month worth of backing."

"And if in a month this doesn't blow over?"

"Then," she leans forward, forearms resting on desk. "You might want to consider making up with Evony so her firm can secure your position."

"So, I basically have to buy my spot in this hospital now?" I can't help but chuckle through a snort.

"Lauren, you're bringing a lot of negative attention to a teaching hospital. This isn't Grey's Anatomy, negative attention doesn't blow over in the next episode. Do you know why?"

"Um, because this isn't a television show."

"Exactly, negative attention stays and plagues a hospital. It costs money, you are costing money."

"Well, that's that then." I just nod, and settle back into my seat. "So much for friendship, hm?"

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Starbucks—10:46 a.m.**_

"Tall, large, Grande?" I look behind myself at the growingly familiar voice.

"They don't have large here."

"Really?" she give me this _'what the hell'_ look.

"You don't strike me as the Starbucks type."

"I'm not."

"Then you've taken up stalking me?" I raise an eyebrow, taking a step further up the line. I shake my head to myself, the image of the last time we were in line together rushing to the forefront of my mind.

"Oh yes, I figured I wasn't working enough hours as it was so thought what better way to pass my near non-existent free time, than stalk the insanely sexy attending-doctor-person."

"I'm a resident, not an attending, but thank you for the compliment."

"I actually asked Hale if he happened to know where you took lunch. He didn't. But he knows a nurse who knows another nurse on your service."

"Stalking on a whole new level I see."

"Well go big or go home."

"Again, you are stealing people's catch phrases." I manage a chuckle, only two more people a head of us. She smirks, eyes dancing over my face. She knows something is wrong, dammit-I can't deal with a round of twenty questions now. "So how did that thing last night turn out?"

"Um, unique."

"Is that so?" I glance over at her, trying not to act too invested.

"Turns out the guy wasn't dead, just got knocked out so damn hard a pitcher of water wouldn't wake him."

"What?" I stop holding up the line, turning to her. "Did you ever find out the name of the place?"

"Yeah, McKinny's. Turns out it wasn't on Ashland it was on Archer. Whole fuck up deal."

"Right." I nod.

"Listen, I hope you didn't mind about this. I just thought it would be you know-cute or something to popup."

"No, no it's fine. I'm just having some work issues going on right now."

"I don't suppose you want to vent to your friendly neighborhood stalker?" her brows raise, this silly smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Too soon." I smile politely and nod. "You know I'm sorry," I step out of line. "I have to get back to the hospital."

"Yeah, sure." She nods, the look on her face similar to a wounded puppy.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, it actually hurt to see the look written over her flawless features. Hurts more to know I'm the cause of it. I feel this need to comfort her, tell her I'm sorry. Tell her something, but I can't. I can barely keep my thoughts straight trying to get through my work, let alone trying to seem charming and pleasant in a social settings. I can hardly manage that during normal days.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**New Hope Recovery Center—5:06 p.m.**_

"Well if isn't my little sister, Super Woman in the flesh."

"Lachlan." I sigh his name, only three seconds and I'm already ready to punch him. Making progress.

"What brings you here? Feeling the need for a little therapy? Some board games?" he leans back into the couch, arms extended gesturing around the rec-room.

"I came to see you."

"Wow. Been a long while since you've wanted to see me."

"Yeah, well current situations at hand are taking precedence." I pull a chair up beside him before taking a seat. He's giving me this unusual look, most likely wondering why I went out of my way to bring a seat rather than just sit across from him.

"What's going on?"

"How are you?"

"Lauren cut the shit. We may not be Donnie and Marie anymore, but I know you. You have the same look you had senior year when they thought you cheated on the SATs."

"They got off."

"What?" his faint smile vanishes.

"The trial ended a few days ago, they got off."

"And you didn't think of telling me?" his voice raises as he stands up. I look behind myself, a pair of security staff taking notice. "I just fucking talked to you a few days ago. I deserve to know."

"Listen to me," I say under my breath, looking back up at him. "If you don't calm down they are going to make me leave."

"Maybe you should." He barks, jaw tightening.

"I need my brother right now." I reach up, taking his hand. He looks down at the embrace almost afraid of it. I don't blame him, it's been almost a year since we had any trace of physical contact when it didn't have to do with an altercation of some kind. "Please."

"It's alright. Bad news, I'll do an extra round of therapy." He calls out to the guards before taking a seat back down. He doesn't settle back in though, he sits on the edge, elbows resting on the top of his thighs. "What did you do?"

"I can't tell you, it would make you an accessory."

"Ah shit Lauren." He chuckles coldly, shaking his head. "Did you make the fucker suffer?" he asks, turning back to me with this intent look that scares me. Or perhaps what scares me the most was that the first response that came to mind was, '_not enough'_.

"Look I came here because it might be the last time I can. I also wanted to ask you to do something for me."

"I can't help you much in here." His words this odd mixture of _'I still blame you for this' _and_ 'I want to help you, but I can't'. _

"Actually you can, remember right after dad died there was that issue with the lease on the house?"

"That my name was only on it, yeah." He nods as he speaks.

"My car is in the garage and I'm driving yours right now. All I need from you is if they ask for permission to search you say no. I'll-take care of it soon."

"You don't even know that it will still only popup in my name, we spent a lot of money fixing that."

"Yeah well," I run my hand through my hair as I look behind myself. "I'm hoping for just a little luck."

"Which one was it?"

"I can't tell you that Lachlan, it—"

"Will make me an accessory, but what do you think this is?"

"It was," I can't help but pause, the image of Bryan laying on the floor covered in blood and bleach still fresh in my mind. Though surprisingly, I don't feel as much guilt as I did staring down at him. "Bryan Wright."

"The Neo-Nazi fuck?"

"He wasn't a-yeah him." I nod, eyes going to the floor.

"You alright?" he asks, the back of his hand taping my leg.

"Yeah, actually I am."

"You going for his brother?"

"No," I shake my head, eyes meeting his. "I wasn't even intending for last night to happen. It was self-defense."

"If it was self-defense then why are you hiding evidence and here asking someone you can't stand for help?"

"Because there are-were elements of the—action that may have suggested otherwise and I panicked."

"You panicked?" He snorts, laughing as he leans back into the corner of the couch. "Bullshit, you panicked and they'd be at your door already. They'd be here wanting into the house. You didn't panic."

I lean back in my own seat, eyes never once leaving his.

Was he right?

Am I pretending to be colder than I am-or am I pretending to be softer than I really am?

Was it really self-defense or was it what I had been waiting for?

Did I want last night?

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Lauren's Apartment—9:02 p.m.**_

"I'm coming." I repeat for the fourth time, jogging down the stairs and tossing the towel I was using for my hair onto the couch. "Evony just use the damn key." I bark, as I get to the door. "What is-Bo?" my eyebrow raises, a faint smile starting to work it's way onto my lips. "You're not Evony."

"What did you do?" she barks at me, this look of pure anger written all over her face. "What did you do Lauren?" her voice raises slightly.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about." I'm so fucked. She knows. Any second her backup will arrive.

"Bullshit. What did you do?"

"Bo, I think you need to leave." I say, going to close the door but her foot prevents me from doing so. "Move your foot."

"Just let me hear you say aloud that he's still alive."

"I-what?" my head tilts as I study her face.

"Just let me hear you say he is still alive somewhere."

"I-I don't understand." I run my hand through dampened hair, a sigh escaping. "Alive?"


	5. Turning Of The Tide

_**Chapter Four: Turning Of The Tide **_

_**(Bo's POV)**_

.

.

"Yeah Lauren, alive and breathing. You know, the opposite of murdered." I snap, but notice she's stopped pushing against the door. Regardless I keep my foot firmly planted.

She's just staring at me with this look of confusion.

"Come in." she says under her breath, this looked of terrified defeat written over her otherwise flawless features. Stepping aside she holds out her right arm out toward the couch.

"You sure? Not expecting anyone else that might mind?" I can't help the way my nostrils flare or the way my eyebrow raises as I glare at her. She tilts her head to the left ever so slightly, a vague confusion there for a brief moment.

"Jesus." She scoffs, shaking her head and letting her arm drop back to her side. "Okay, I can see we need to pause on an actual dire matter to handle this." A snort follows as she looks back up to meet my gaze. "This was Evony's apartment, and I moved in. I was added to the lease, she has another place on Lake Shore, when we broke up she moved there and I kept this apartment. She is still on the lease so she still has keys. No it's not a common occurrence that she comes over, but when it happens it's not surprising for her just to use a key."

"I see." I nod.

"Are we good now with this?" her eyes narrow, her arm extending once more toward the couch.

"Tell me what happened." It's more of a demand than a request as I walk into her apartment, stopping just before the couch. My eyes finding a picture of her family, the only photo that has her mother-or I should say, who I assume is her mother.

"I told you, I'm not quite sure what you're talking about." Her voice manages to hold level, the sound of the door closing instinctively pulling my attention away from the photo, but I don't turn around—there's no need.

"Don't do this Lauren," I hesitate for a moment. "I can't help you if you lie to me."

"I don't need your help."

"Bullshit." I turn to face her. "You need a lot of help."

"Perhaps if you told me what exactly this was about then I would be better equipped to agree or disagree with that statement."

"Alright." I can't help but laugh, I run my hand through my hair pushing it from my face. "You want to play the game, we'll play." I nod and take a single step forward. "Some UOs responded to a call this afternoon at some shithole, dive. Signs of foul play. No big deal, just another day, shithead killing another shithead. Turns out that shithead victim though is Bryan Wright." I pause, another step toward her as I see what little color she has in her cheeks drain. "You remember Bryan, right?"

"Screw you."

"What did you do Lauren?"

"I did nothing, and I find it insulting that I would be the first stop on your list."

"No you don't."

"I like how you presume to know me to an intimate extent."

"Well let's be honest, I do know you in a literal intimate extent."

"Can say I don't love this attitude of yours." She scowls, swallowing hard, but she doesn't move.

"If there is one thing on the short list of things I can say I know about you Lauren, it's that you are logical. You're smart and precise. So I know that having a father who was a detective, a brother who was a lawyer and an ex who is a lawyer-you know without a doubt that Bryan Wright could have been hit by a cab and a CPD officer would have been here to question you ten minutes later."

"Fine, so was he hit by a cab? Is this routine, just want to dot your I's and cross your T's?"

"Nope," I can't help but chuckle, shaking my head once again. I wonder how long she'll play this out, never expected her to be one for games. "From what we can tell, a stabbing of some kind."

"From what you can tell?"

She's just slipped. The way her voice dips, the way her brow furrows ever so slightly. She had been doing extremely well until this instant. She must notice, catch herself since she takes a step toward me and fixes her face in an intrigued expression—as if the slip was intentional.

It's cute, and sexy. Had it been any other situation my resolve would have shattered already.

"You sure you want to keep this up?"

"Didn't imagine you being one for lack of stamina." She smirks, eyes narrowing just a bit.

"From what we can deduce it was a stabbing of some kind. The sole weapon on scene hadn't been fired nor is there any other sign that would suggest a shot was fired. Not to mention the condition of the surroundings suggested a struggle of some kind."

"And his body, what did you learn from that?"

"That's the million dollar question isn't Lauren?" my left brow raises. I unconsciously bite my bottom lip as my eyes run over her. "The question you've been wanting the answer to since you opened the door, hm?"

"It's an intriguing question, I'm curious by nature." She gives me this slight shrug, eyes following mine.

"Can I see your knife?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your knife. The expensive flip blade one?"

"I don't-how do you-did you go through my things when you were here?" she snaps, taking two steps forward.

"I told you I noticed the pictures when I went looking for you, you had your bag tossed all over. The knife was next to the picture of you, Vex and Evony." I look over my shoulder, gesturing toward it. "Couldn't help but to notice it."

"What did you learn from the body Bo?"

"There wasn't a body to learn anything from-Lauren." She takes a step back, this clenching of her jaw as she looks toward the door.

"H—how do you know it's Bryan then?"

"Well the owner of the bar said he left him there, his vehicle is still there, and the blood type matches."

"Blood matches?"

"Yeah, see the bleach used did an amazing job, kudos. The problem was the blood that pooled underneath him, his body must have covered it. Enough for us to easily make a match."

"Well, he was a son of a bitch. I can't imagine I'm the only one who wanted him dead."

"Word to the wise Doc, add the word 'would' between who and wanted. Sounds better."

"Fine," she chuckles nervously. "I'm not the only one who would have wanted him dead."

"No, but you do have the greatest motive. You are also the only one smart enough to cover just enough of your tracks, while leaving others unattended."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning wiping the phone down, pouring the bleach anywhere you touched, anywhere he would have touched you. But not take his car, not make sure all of the blood was diluted. Etcetera."

"Well, as you said no body so." She shrugs.

"Which means one of three things Lauren. One and the most unlikely, you can lift double your weight with no problem, you dispensed of his body. Two much more probable, you had someone with you. Or the third and final option, you didn't make sure he was actually dead."

"You speak as if you know without a doubt it was me."

"I do."

"If you did I would be in cuffs by now, your backup busting through my door."

"Correction, I know you did it Lauren-they don't."

"What's the difference?"

"If you really don't know the difference, then I don't know what to tell you."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Outside Lauren's Building—9:30 p.m.**_

"Let's go." It's a sigh, well it's more of an order that finds itself disguised in a sigh. I pull the door shut with a hard thud, I know he's staring at me, but I keep my eyes on the side-view mirror.

"Pretty worked up over a one night stand." He says with just enough of a friendly tone to keep his words from sounding too offensive. "Especially a drunken one-who may or may not still be getting some from her ex."

"Can we go?" my attention snapping to him, brows raised.

"I'm not exactly sure what this girl has over you, but you need to take a step back."

"You know nothing about this Hale."

"Maybe, but I don't think you know much about this either. You met this girl what, almost four years ago now? How many times have you seen her? How much do you know about her?"

"Enough."

"Enough?" he laughs, shaking his head as he looks out his window for a minute. "What? She's good in bed? She's a doctor? She has a brother in court ordered rehab? Her ex is one of the biggest defense lawyers in the state? She isn't extremely friendly? Her parents are dead?" he nods. "I know all that too Bo, what else you got?"

"Mind your business."

"Come on Bo, tell me what else you know? Tell me something I can't find out from CNN or asking around the DA's office."

"I know that she's a good person."

"Shit, I wonder if B. Wright would agree with that."

"Fuck you." I can't help but snort, whacking his arm with the back of my hand. "Since when are you all sympathetic to repeat violent offenders?"

"I'm not, but there is a difference between a cop dispensing justice and a civilian doing a Jodi Foster impression."

"First of all, you love that movie." I snap, but can't help the wayward smile pulling on my lips. "Second, there isn't any proof she did shit."

"First, who doesn't love at least one Jodi Foster movie? Point me out someone and I'll show you a liar." His nostrils flare as he give me this smirk. His left hand moving onto the wheel as his right turn the keys in the ignition. "Second, you're absolutely right. There isn't any proof," He keeps my gaze, this silence filling the car as his smirk fades. "Yet."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

_**Sunday**_

.

.

_**XSPORT Fitness—12:47 p.m.**_

_**-(I think we are losing perspective here. Lauren Lewis is not the problem, she was one of a dozen witnesses who testified during the trial. A CPD Detective, a pediatrician, several bank employees, a small business owner, a school teacher. All jobs which endow the employees with a level of trust and respect, why is the case falling apart falling solely on her shoulders?**_

_**Excellent point Eric, also why has no one addressed the fact that ADA Dyson A. Thornwood softballed the entire case? **_

_**Eric, Jillian, I think you're forgetting that the State made her the focus of the case. They essentially made this woman the wide receiver expecting her to be able to catch the ball and take it into the end zone and what she did was the opposite. She essentially caught the ball and then handed it off to the other team willingly.)—**_

Fuckheads.

When did it become tradition to blame the victims?

Rolling my eyes to myself, I turn the little screen back off as I pull my earphones from the machine and plug them back into my phone. My attention wandering around the gym, not particularly in the mood to workout, but then the peddle bike is never much of a workout.

I happen to glance down readying to skip to the next song, the little message icon catching my eye.

.

_**Lauren:**__ Any news? __**(12:51 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Excuse me, the information ship you are trying to reach has sailed. __**(12:51 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ Cute. __**(12:51 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Some people do find me cute. __**(12:51 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ I find you cute. __**(12:52 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Flattery for information? I'm pretty sure there is some kind of law against this. __**(12:52 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ I'm simply asking for my own safety. You came here last night completely worked up, explaining to me that a murdering, psycho, with a grudge against me may be on the loose. __**(12:52 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I find your description of last night rather interesting. __**(12:52 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ I just need to know if I should be worried, Bo. __**(12:53 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ You tell me. I can't even be certain whether he is still alive or not Lauren. __**(12:53 p.m.)**_

.

I stare down at my phone, the pace of my legs becoming near nonexistent.

I wonder if she'll disappear now. Or maybe she'll just divert the conversation again. For someone who seemingly lacks social skills, she's quite adept at steering the conversation where she wants.

.

_**Lauren:**__ Speaking hypothetically. If there was a chance, however small that he was still alive, and that I may need to worry about him. What would I do? __**(12:55 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Call your ex and have her on retainer. __**(12:55 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ This was a mistake. Sorry I wasted your time. __**(12:55 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Officially I would have to tell you that if you possibly did anything that may have put your life in danger then you should come down to the station and get this sorted. We would be more than willing to assign protection if required. __**(12:56 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ And unofficially? __**(12:56 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ Not as a detective or member of law enforcement. As someone who was in the bank that day. Someone who saw what happened. Someone who watched this man stand by idly while my father died. As someone who cares what happens to me, for whatever reason it may be. __**(12:56 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Unofficially….the bitchy comment about Evony wasn't a lie. But immediate protection? There really isn't anything to do. You could stay with someone else, but apart from putting them at risk it might be easier for him to find you that way. Even if you could get a gun quick enough, under the table type a deal you would not want to be caught with it. And that knife that you may or may not have, you won't want to have that on you either. __**(12:59 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren**__: So, sit and wait is my option? __**(1:00 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Sit. Wait. Know you have someone looking out for you, officially and unofficially. __**(1:00 p.m.)**_

.

I'm so fucked.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**A.D.A. Thornwood's Office—3:01 p.m.**_

"Detective Dennis, isn't this a pleasure." He smirks up at me from his desk as he waves off his assistant.

"Dyson." I sigh through a smirk, one on ones with him are never the easiest thing to do.

"So, is this business or pleasure?" his lips curve into that wolf grin of his, his eyes falling from my own to the cleavage put on display from my poorly zipped hoodie.

"Business, it's about Bryan Wright."

"Ah, the word on the street is that he's gotten himself murdered."

"Spend much time on the streets do you Mr. Prada?" I snort, shaking my head as I take a seat on the corner of his desk.

"I have my ways."

"I'd rather not know, what I would like though is a list of know safe spots for him."

"I thought you were off today."

"Glad you're keeping up with my schedule." I flash a smirk of my own, a slight pout as I lean just a bit forward. Was I proud of it? Not really, but hey if you got it-use it. "Listen, if there is any way we can skip over this, it would be great."

"Since when does the twenty-first precinct need the D.A.'s office to do it's leg work?"

"It doesn't, but I don't particularly feel like spending the next few days hitting the streets, talking to assholes to get a lead on him-if I can simply have the A.D.A. hand me the list I know he has."

"Alright Bo," he nods, leaning over as he pulls his bottom desk drawer open. "Your indisputable charm has won me over once again." He chuckles to himself, hand shuffling through a folder. It's not long before he's sitting back up, foot pushing the drawer shut. "Just one question."

"Let me guess, you want to go for drinks?"

"No," he shakes his head and there's something there, something in his eyes that makes my smirk fade unconsciously. "I'm well aware you bat solely for the other team-despite the flirtation and occasionally lapse in judgment." I find myself sitting up straight, eyes narrowing as the muscles in my lower back tense. "I just want to make sure this is actually work related and doesn't have anything to do with a particular blonde."

"Not sure what you mean."

"I was there a little over a month ago," he forces a chuckle, this smile coming over his face as if everything is fine. "There was some serious chemistry there. Lauren is a great person, but speaking as someone who knows her. She can be very manipulative."

"Well, be that as it may. I simply want to save myself some leg work." I stand up, an equally fake smile to match his. "But I do appreciate your concern in the matter." I hold my hand out waiting for him to give me the paper he pulled from his drawer. "Thanks." It takes a minute, an awkward moment of the two of us sizing one another up, but regardless he hands it over.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Bo, Kenzi & Hale's Apartment—8:24 p.m.**_

"Welcome home Stranger," Kenzi greets from the couch, her leg tossed over the back of it, head resting on the arm. Guess it's pretty comfortable considering she doesn't even bother to look back at me when she speaks. "Must have been one hell of a workout."

"I ended up doing a little work."

"Oh, I know. D-Man ended up calling Hale."

"Did he?" I can't help but to chuckle as I kick of my shoes. Fuckhead.

"Yeah, something about how he had another address that might be of interest to you."

"What did Hale say?" I don't intend to, but I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her answer. I don't know why I'm so nervous, I could easily explain this away, and besides I haven't done anything wrong.

Yet.

"Nothing, took the address, he's still out checking it out."

"He went to check?" Hm, not what I was expecting. "Sorry, I know you two had a thing planned." I shake off the remaining butterflies in my stomach as I make my way into the kitchen, shuffling through the fridge.

"We did, it was a lunch deal and then we came back here to-well," she finally looks at me as I poke my head back out of the fridge. "You know."

"What are you watching?" I pull out a Gatorade and make my way toward her. My mind already wandering on what I plan to order as the growling from my stomach grabs my attention.

"Same thing the rest of the world is watching, CNN."

"I can't escape this." I sigh, walking around the couch to take a seat. "Change this shit."

"No, I'm watching it."

"Kenz," I glance over at her, my brow raising. "Change it."

"No." she laughs, nudging my leg with her foot.

"Then I'm going to my room." I warn her, bringing myself back to my feet.

"Fine then, go cause I'm not changing it." She scoffs at me, and I call her bluff starting to walk away.

"You know Kenz," I find myself turning back around, the smirk on her lips vanishing. "I was there. I was in that bank. I saw what happened, what really happened. I don't need snotty ass people who make more money than I ever will see to sit there and summarize the event over and over again for me. Believe me, I will never forget."

"Okay," she quickly sits up, switching the T.V. off. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it was a big deal."

"It's not." I snap. "I just don't need to be reminded every second of the day, and I don't need to hear how Lauren is the reason those sick fucks got off."

"No one really believes that, it just makes for good T.V."

"Yeah, well it's bullshit. They don't even mention me, I was the one who fucked up on the stand."

"You want them to—"

"I want them to be fair." I look down at the ground, taking a deep breath realizing my voice is starting to raise. "I just-think it's a little ridiculous how they are so focused on ripping her apart when she's lost everything. They haven't even hardly mentioned the three of them since the verdict."

"Well did you really expect them too? I mean let's be honest Bo-Bo, Jason Wallace has the money and power to make it go away. The other two are nobodies, but Lauren is a happy medium."

"Yeah, well it's still bullshit."

"It is." She says softly as she nods and pats the cushion beside her. "Come on, let's watch some cheap, horribly ridiculous horror movie."

"Why does it have to be horrible?" I find myself making my way back over to her. I don't really feel like socializing now, but it wasn't her fault what was happening. It wasn't her fault she doesn't know what I'm feeling, or what I felt that day.

"Simple." She leans back, her legs going over my lap. "We need a good laugh."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Bo's Room—11:02 p.m.**_

"Jesus!" I yell, instinctively reaching out and smacking Hale's stomach. "What the hell?" I snap, shaking my hand as I pull it back, his stupid rock hard stomach doing more damage to my hand than I did to him.

"You need to get dressed."

"Why?" I look up at him, sheet clenched to my body. The darkness of the room making it near impossible to tell his expression, the flatness of his tone doing nothing to help let me know his mood.

"They found Bryan Wright an hour or so ago, brought him in." I sit up, this heavy weight on my chest. "Something wrong?"

"No, just was sort of hoping the fuck would be dead by the time we found him."

"Guess moments like this is why they say hope breeds eternal misery."

I run my hand through my hair, slowly tilting my head to look up at him.

I am so fucked.


	6. Troubles

_**Chapter Five: Troubles**_

_**(Bo's POV)**_

.

.

.

_**Saint Mark's Hospital—11:40 p.m.**_

"What are we doing here?" I ask near stupidly, hands buried in my jacket pockets as I idly bounce on the balls of my feet. A slight distraction from the bitterness of the cold. My breath misting in the air, partially grabbing my attention, but honestly it just helps me from seeming nervous. "What are we doing here?" I repeat before glancing to my left at Hale who nods his head toward an ambulance backing into the parking lot.

It was pointless for me to ask to at all, I'm not stupid.

I guess I just-I don't know honestly.

He takes a step back and I do the same as the ambulance backs up to the platform we have been waiting on for the past twenty minutes. I want to say something, keep some type of friendly dialog between us to know his mindset. Looking at him now though, jaw tight and eyes fixed on the paramedics opening the doors, I'm pretty certain of his mindset-no words needed.

Honestly, the moment we took a right on East instead of a left, I knew that something was off. I knew when we turned into the hospital parking lot and pulled around back, there was a seventy-five percent chance of this happening. I knew when I found myself standing out in the open waiting on something, that my seventy-five percent should change to a ninety instead.

I take another step back as the two paramedics pull the gurney out, my eyes narrowing as they do. I want to look at Hale, want to say something.

I stay silent though.

I turn to follow them inside when a third paramedic emerging catches my eye. Actually what catches my eye is the carrying sized, red and white cooler he's carrying out.

"What's that?" my hand going to his arm to stop him, eyes moving over the white parts. Well they were supposed to be white, dried blood doing a decent job of hiding that fact.

"Mr. Wright's essential organs. The sick fuck decided to save the coroner some time." He snorts, shaking his head as he brushes passed us.

"Tell me again how much you know this girl." Hale snarks through a clenched jaw.

.

_**Me:**__ We found Wright's body. This isn't looking good Lauren. __**(11:43 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ What? __**(11:43 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ What do you have? __**(11:43 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Nothing. I just arrived at the hospital, but I assure you if my assumption is right, you just shot up the suspect list at an alarming rate. __**(11:44 p.m.)**_

.

I palm my phone letting my jacket sleeve come down over my hand. The sound of the gurney wheels creating the most haunting sound, one that seems to echo down the long and desolate hall. I was never one for the morgue, hell hospitals in general.

Hale looks over his shoulder at me, making sure I'm close behind-and not on the phone. I nod, he just turns away giving me an opportunity to glance back down at my vibrating phone.

.

_**Lauren:**__ Why? __**(11:45 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I don't have time to play this game with you. __**(11:45 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ I'm not playing a game with you Bo. __**(11:45 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ His essential organs were found removed and left in a cooler. I'm not a genius or anything, but organ removal isn't something any John Doe can do. __**(11:46 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ I did not do that. __**(11:46 p.m.)**_

.

"Wearing ankle weights?" Hale snaps as I turn the corner nearly running right into him.

"No, just didn't feel the need to run. It's gonna be a bit anyway."

"Sure you weren't obstructing justice?" he grabs my hand turning it palm up, his eyes narrowing as he finds nothing. A small _'fuck you'_ smirk coming over my lips as I feel my phone slide down my sleeve stopping at the bend in my elbow. How easily people forget things about you, like the fact I was less than a model citizen from sixteen until four years ago. You learn to pick up a few tricks on the street.

"Wanna frisk me too? Promise I won't tell." I wink at him earning the most disgusted look from him I've ever seen.

It's not something I'm proud of, but I use what I have.

If there was one thing I knew about Hale, it's that he is hopelessly devoted to my sister. Not me nor Beyonce could sway that man from Kenz, but for whatever reason the few times I even came near flirting, he ran away. This time being no different. It wasn't something I needed to use often, and hell, the first time it happened it was nothing more than an accident. Life's little advantages I guess.

"Jumping Jehosaphat." Both me and him look over at the coroner looking over the body. "The Hezbollah did you bring me?"

I run my hand through my hair making sure to hang back as Hale takes point. This time it wasn't solely about the need to have access to my phone so much about trying to keep a distance from Doctor Martin, or as he is known around the precinct, Chester-The-Molester. A five-five, sixty some year old, extremely plump and balding man that smelled consistently of vodka and formaldehyde. His nickname coming from the fact he has no fewer than six sexual harassment complaints a year since ninety-eight when he started at the hospital. I always wondered how he managed to keep his job, but then again I never cared enough to ask.

"What do you think?" Hale barks out, he's in a seriously pissy mood.

"Apart from he looks like someone took a cheese grader to him?" he snorts looking up at us, and it's not the cute snort some people can pull off. "Lot of blood."

"How about something we couldn't come up with from looking at him."

"Alright, alright." Another snort, this one sending a chill down my spine. "On first glance-carotid, brachial-femoral arteries all have damage."

"Arteries huh?" Hale glances back at me over his shoulder. "Would say anyone have the knowhow to do that?"

"Have you heard of Google?" another snorted laugh.

.

_**Me:**__ I'm assuming you know where the carotid and femoral arteries are? __**(11:53 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ Of course. I couldn't be a doctor without that knowledge. __**(11:53 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ That's what I was afraid of. __**(11:53 p.m.)**_

.

"What about this organ deal? That something someone can Google too?" I ask, hand already slipped back under my sleeve.

"Possibly, I mean sure you get anything off the internet these days. I know." He lets out this disgusting snort filled laugh as he winks at me.

"I'm sorry, are you confusing me with someone else?" my eyebrow raises, the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach undoubtedly making itself know with my expression.

"Touchy, touchy tonight detectives, and NOT in the good way." He holds his hands up, nodding under Hale's glare. "Yeah, it's possible. But when I get into this I'll be able to tell the skill level so that will determine whether this is someone with working knowledge of Google. Or if this is someone with actual knowledge of human anatomy."

"How would you be able to know that?"

"Trying to mount a defense for someone Bo?" Hale turns his glare to me.

"Just trying to solve a murder Hale, can't do that without asking questions can I?"

"Perhaps you should be asking someone else some questions."

"Do we have a suspect? That would make things so much easier for me?" Doctor Martin cuts in.

The two of us turn our attention to him, a shared look of irritation getting our point across as he shrugs and turns his back to us before walking off. I assume gathering his required tools, or-something.

"You need to seriously think about what you're doing." He warns under his breath.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine. Really." I take a step back. "I'm going to the car to grab something, do you feel the need to watch me?" I wait a second to see if his trust in me had completely vanished. He stares at me, I can see he contemplates it-but waves me off.

.

_**Me:**__ Do you have something you need to tell me? __**(11:58 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Ignoring me now? __**(11:58 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ I don't know what is happening there, but I know absolutely nothing about organs or arteries. __**(11:59 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ I mean pertaining to this situation, I actually know quite a bit about them in the general sense, but that is besides the point. __**(11:59 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Thank you for the clarification… __**(11:59 p.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ Glad you can find a time for humor now. __**(12:00 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ That was sarcasm, not humor. __**(12:00 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Look Lauren, you're refusing to trust me and you know what? That's your choice. But heed this warning. Whatever you did or didn't do is coming back to bite you in the ass. You need to find someone to trust real quick, preferably someone who can help you. __**(12:00 a.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I need to go, if I keep texting it's going to get suspicious. __**(12:00 a.m.)**_

_**Lauren:**__ Thank you. __**(12:03 a.m.)**_

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

_**Tuesday**_

.

.

_**Lewis' Household—4:47 p.m.**_

"You know this stalking thing of yours can be charming at times," she says staring at me with this incredibly serious scowl as I get out of my car. "This is one of the times it's not."

"I haven't heard from you since Sunday night."

"It was after twelve. So technically, early yesterday morning."

"Cute." I scoff, pushing my door shut. "You also decided to ignore my partner's request to come into the station."

"Did I?" she gives me this _'confused'_ face, shaking her head. "I never got a call."

"I'm so sure." I walk up the driveway toward her, pulling my sunglasses off.

"So you're here to what? Take me in?"

"No. I'm here to talk to you, but honestly at this point if you refuse to do so-then yeah. I will bring you in."

"What happened to unofficially looking out for me?" her nostrils flare, eyes narrowing as her jaw locks.

"You don't think everything I've done has been unofficially looking out for you Lauren? I mean let's be realistic, I've broken so many laws for you already it's not even funny."

"I never asked you to."

"You didn't need to." I run my eyes over her face, my resolve wavering-briefly. "Your choice." I glare, reaching behind myself and pulling out my cuffs. She looks at them, then at me. This _'fuck you'_ smirk that's an interesting combo of sexy and cute. Everything with her is just so complex. Was it slightly excessive? Yeah, but honestly I was becoming slightly fed up with the slaps in the face, despite all I've tried to do for her.

"Well, I hope you weren't expecting a beverage. Haven't paid the light bill in a while either." Her smirk holds firm as she turns her back to me and starts toward the house.

"You pay the light bill?" she glances over her shoulder at me. "Thought the house was in your brother's name?"

"Been busy I see." She turns her attention to the door, or rather the seemingly tricky lock. "Just because it's in his name doesn't mean he was the one paying the bills. He hasn't had a job in a long time."

"Ah, I get it now." I chuckle to myself, thinking out loud. She steps aside letting me in.

"Get what?"

"Your whole arrangement with Evony."

"Excuse me?" her tone hardens, the sound of her keys crashing into something grabbing my attention. They simply hit a dust covered vase on an equally dust covered stand next to the door.

"You're having to pay for your brother, Evony lets you live rent free at the apartment in hopes of an occasional booty call. It's cool, I get it."

"Not so friendly today I see." She scoffs, slipping from her jacket as she tosses it on the staircase directly in fronts of us.

"Being jerked around tends to do that to me."

"Ah. I see. So what, you were thinking you'd play Officer Friendly and I'd open my legs for you again?" she glares, as I return it. "Sorry, not how I work."

"Unless it's for someone with a law degree, hm?"

"Wow." She chuckles to herself, jaw tightening as she looks down at my feet. "Don't stop Bo, you're on a roll making assumptions about my life. It's amusing, also helps kill that little bit of attraction I still had for you."

"Why are you here Lauren?"

"Feeling sentimental."

"I'm sure."

"I can be sentimental."

"The fact you feel the need to defend yourself without any real comment from me, should tell you something." I smirk, pushing passed her into the living room.

It's big enough, a possible cozy feel to it. Big flat screen, a stand full of movies, a nice couch and love seat. A fireplace with tons of pictures above on the mantle. Several cardboard, offices boxes piled up seemingly randomly.

Looks like it was a nice place-once.

"What are you looking for?" she snaps.

"Just looking around." I glance over my shoulder smirking. "Worried?"

"No, of course not."

"Cause you didn't do anything."

"That's right."

"I'm sure." I chuckle as I make my way to the fireplace. "You looked happy." My tone unconsciously softening, eyes caught on a picture of her, her father and another man.

"We were."

"You were close with your brother?" my eyes shifting to a picture of her and him sitting at a table, a colorful cake in front of them, smiles plastered completely over their faces.

"Pretty personal questions."

"Don't want to answer my questions about Bryan Wright," I pause, turning to face her. "So may as well ask something else."

"Let me guess, your round of twenty questions will be one sided?"

"Nope, you can ask me what you'd like." I shrug, starting to turn back to the pictures until I hear her start to speak.

"How about you tell me how you made detective in what, three-four years?"

"Simple. Understaffed precinct and I have a high felony arrest rate." I smirk, trying to keep my expression from changing.

"You lied, you lose." This time she smirks. "Psych was a required class for me too Detective, I'm pretty good at picking up on lies. Overly simple answer, subtle change of tone, obvious and intentional lack of expression."

"Okay," I nod, a slight chuckle escaping myself. "I do have a high felony arrest rate, by the way. And in all fairness, I've only been a detective for three months, this is my fourth real investigation."

"Well, you're doing splendid." She laughs, and I can't help but do the same.

"Do you want to know or not?"

"Please, continue."

"I'm a cop who goes with the flow." I shrug. "The district commander's son is a bit of a prick, cut him a break on two DUI's. Got bumped up to a tact team, spent some good time there. Quite a few lucky breaks, my record looks great on paper-just a side note." I chuckle, smile fading as I look down at my shoes. "A couple months back, I broke up a bar fight. Recognized one of the guys as my lieutenant's son, let him go. Next morning I got a thank you card, said what I did wouldn't be forgotten. Then four months ago a spot opens, I'm taking the test and a month later I got a new job."

"You feel guilty?"

"Nu-huh," I shake my head and smirk. "Your turn."

"Fair enough," she smirks for just a sliver of a second. "We were, well as close as two people with a Type-A personality can be." She glances back up, I guess trying to figure out if I knew the reference. I did, but she wasn't going to get away with some single sentence. "We've just always been competitive. It was-nice when things were okay, but when things began to fall apart—"

"It didn't help."

"No, not at all." She takes a deep breath through her nose, eyes meeting mine. "Your answer."

"Do I feel guilty?" I sort of chuckle, shaking my head. "I passed the test, I met the qualifications. I'm not overly educated, just community college and public schools you know. But you don't need much to be a good cop. Dedication, an understanding of human suffering, and street smarts. Luckily I get a checkmark in all of those."

"I agree, apart from thinking I murdered someone and partially helping me cover it up-you're very good cop." Her lips curve into this tiny smile.

"Well there is that." I laugh, taking a step toward her. "I do wonder though, would I still be standing here with a fancy title had I not had the fortune of being in a position to-"

"Bend the law?"

"And just when I think I can stop guarding my jugular."

"Oh relax." She gives me this near playful face as she turns away from me walking out of the room.

I just stand here sort of dumbfounded. I mean I can see the front entrance, her car keys on the stand and her jacket remains on the stairs. She doesn't strike me as the slip out of the back door, even if she did do this—she wasn't the type to tip her hand when she knew she still had a good bluff or two left.

"Thought you didn't have anything to drink." I smirk as she walks back in, two wine coolers in hand.

"Yeah well, I wasn't sure I wanted you to stay." She hands me mine, nodding to the couch.

"Oh, so now you want me here?" I ask following her.

"Never said that Bo," sip. "I just realize you aren't leaving anytime soon."

"I can be a pain in the ass like that." I take a drink, eyes idly running over her face-her body. She hardly aged at all since the first time I had met her. Whether she had changed in general, well that is another question entirely. "So what's the deal with the knife, don't strike me as the type."

"Presume much?" her left brow raises just a bit, something that's accompanied by a half smirk. "When I was in college I had to walk to the train. There were a series of rapes in the area, so my father got it for me. Made me promise to carry it in my backpack and it's just a habit I never got over."

"Brought your backpack with you that night?" I take a drink, a faint hint of amusement as I watch her features scrunch into a glare.

"So, girlfriend? Boyfriend? Both?"

"Nice deflection." I snicker. "No, single. I wouldn't have been pursuing you if I wasn't."

"Oh, I am so sure." She laughs, shaking her and taking a drink. Her eyes never once leaving my face, just proving a point that she doesn't believe me.

"I already admitted that you would have had a right to think that. But I really just, if I'm single I'll do what I please. When I'm in a relationship though I am dedicated."

"I see, and exactly when and how long ago was your last dedicated endeavor?"

"Can we count our night together?" I manage to keep a straight face for no longer than two seconds after the words leave my mouth. "Oh, your face was priceless. Um, honestly about six months ago I had a three month deal."

"Was it love?"

"No, never took a jump down that rabbit hole."

"Then?"

"You believe you need to be in love to commit?"

"No, I was never in love with Evony yet I never cheated. The difference though is the personalities."

"I think you politely just called me a hoe."

"No, people have different personalities. Woman can like sex and not be a whore. Very different categories."

"Mm-hm." I nod, jaw tightening as I take a drink.

"Evony is the same way. I dated her so obviously it isn't a problem for me."

"There are so many ways I can take that comment."

"Reality is merely one's perception of a particular event in time, so." She trails off giving me this little shrug.

"Right." I nod, small laugh escaping. "So let me ask you Doctor, what is your perception of this particular event in time?"

"This moment?"

"Mm-hm."

"I find in front of me a good cop with a good heart, but who is incredibly broken in her own way. Broken from what she has to deal with every day. Broken from our shared experience, and broken from something that happened long before. But beyond that, I see someone very conflicted. Conflicted because she is so certain I had something to do with his death, but you don't believe I'm capable of what was done to him. Conflicted because you're not exactly sure you want to arrest whoever did this, be it me or someone else. Conflicted because of your attraction to me."

"Well, you just know me so well don't you." I snap, eyes going to the doorway as I take heavy drink. My natural response to snap. I wasn't diluted about myself, it took a long time to accept I'm a defensive person-more so than most. Funny thing though is that despite knowing it, I never seem to be able to prevent the response.

Truth was, someone had never been more right about me-and that scares me.

"Just my perception, that's all."

"You want to know my perception Lauren?"

"By all means." She shrugs as if there's nothing in the world that can get to her, but I'm starting to see there isn't a single thing that doesn't.

"I see someone so scared to be alone she would rather live in her ex's apartment than get her own. So scared to be alone she'll visit her brother in rehab who she can hardly stand. So scared to be alone she'll keep a relationship with a detective investigating a case she may be a suspect in. Sure, you'll tell yourself it's a good relationship to keep given the information you can get, but we both know beyond the surface there's more there. I see someone who used to know exactly who she was and now? Now she can't even figure out who she is for the day."

"Bravo Detective." She forces this disgusted smile, taking a gulp as she leans back into the couch. Her left arm resting on the ledge of the back of the couch, her body turned toward me. "You've got me all figured out."

"Are you ready to stop playing games?"

"If we stop playing games then however will we communicate?" she smirks bringing the bottle to her lips. She's trying to lighten the mood. Trying to steer the conversation as she has so many times before, but this time it's different. There's something about the feel of the air, the way the awkward silence is nothing other than awkward. Something about the way that the smirks and jabs aren't playful, simply deflective.

"Not this time." I shake my head, leaning forward and placing my nearly empty bottle on the floor.

"You really want the truth?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" her eyes narrow. "Because I don't think you are."

"No? Why's that?"

"Because then you would be confronted with a truth, a truth that might not be what you're hoping for."

"Truth is truth Lauren, can't be bias when searching for it."

"I swore to my father that they would pay, justice, vengeance, revenge—doesn't matter. So, I started following Bryan. At first I think I thought I was going to kill him. Some big, elaborate ordeal-one too many Asian revenge flicks I guess. Turns out though I'm not really that kind of person."

"No?" my eyes follow hers as she glances toward the door.

"After I realized that, I kept following him though. Kept expecting him to slip, maybe watch some thug in that shithole kill him. "

"So you thought you-a five-five, hundred pounds soaking wet, middle class, doctor would stalk a cokehead who has more aggravated battery charges than Ike Turner, was a bright idea?"

"Well, when you put it that way." She raises her brow, tilting her head to the side. "It was ironic, I remember the night vividly, but it's-faded for me. It's faded not in the way of details, but faded as it feels long ago-feels like another me."

"What happened Lauren?"

"I thought you saved me is what happened." She turns away from me, leaning forward and putting her bottle down next to my own. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, about our conversation. In that moment," she hesitates sitting up straight, but her eyes move back to the door. "In that moment I thought stupidly that perhaps there was another path for me."

"Lauren."

"I was getting ready to leave, to put it all behind me-or try at least. My window shattered, hand around my throat—I blacked out. I woke up sometime later, he was talking to someone about me. He ran his mouth, but he was going to kill me." She leans forward, elbows on her knees. She turns her head, eyes meeting my own and for a moment, I can't breathe. "You're going to want to read me my rights before this last bit."

"Tell me what happened," my words a hesitant whisper, one more step passed the line. One more bending of the law. One more tear in the moral code I've tried to uphold. "Please."

"He um," the hesitation all but voluntary, this new vulnerability sneaking into her eyes. "He put me on my knees and then put a gun to my head. I felt the knife in my pocket and I just, I sliced his wrist and ran. I ran for the door Bo, I realized without a doubt wasn't _**that**_ person."

"It's okay." Another whisper, I lean toward her, hand resting on her forearm. "Tell me."

"I found myself flying backward on this table. He had me pinned-effortlessly, on top of me-between my legs. I just stared at the door and kept thinking I shouldn't have tried, I should have just let him kill me. Then he was stumbling backward, I wasn't even sure what had happened." My eyes leave hers unintentionally, falling to my hand that she's now cupping. "I swear I didn't mean kill him, but I'm not sorry I did."

"Did you desecrate the body?"

"N—yes. I poured the bleach."

"No, I mean-"

"No, I don't know how to explain that. Maybe he was still alive, it wasn't like I checked."

"And you were alone?"

"I just told you," she pulls her hand back. "You don't believe me?"

"I do, but that's the problem."

"How so?" her eyes dance over my face searching for something.

"Well I doubt Bryan pulled a Doctor Mengele on himself, even if he was still alive when you left." Slowly I pull my hand away, leaning back. "If I am to believe you, and I do then the real question is who turned him into a Picasso?"

"What about Jason Wallace?"

"What about him?"

"I've seen—they keep saying that I have some medical school connection with him."

"Do you?"

"No-no." she shakes her head, brow furrowed as it looks like she's trying to solve world hunger. "I mean the classes were huge, but I would have remembered him. But if they're pushing the angle then isn't there a possibility of truth somewhere? Maybe not a connection to me, but a medical school connection?"

"Could be." I run my hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face as I stand.

"Where are you going?" I can't help but to look down at her, something about the vulnerability in her voice surprising me.

"Lauren, it's not long before they come for you. Right now everything points to you."

"And what exactly do you plan on doing about that?"

"My job." She tilts her head back a bit, slight hint of confusion creeping over her features. "Find out who did this." I give a little shrug, walking toward the door. "By the way, stay at your place. Staying here will cause them to do a little too close of look at the mortgage. They see your name and they're gonna come searching."

"How did you-?"

"I told you already," I pull the door open, looking over at her with a wayward smirk. "Qualities that make you an efficient cop, doesn't necessarily make you a genius."

"Be careful."

"Always." My smirk transitioning into gentle smile, something about the genuine nature to her words catching me off guard.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

_**Wednesday **_

.

.

_**21**__**st**__** Precinct—4:26 p.m.**_

"Trick." I smirk, plopping down in his visitor's chair. "What's up?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, eyes down on a particular folder. He was never much of a conversationalist, but this was new.

"So you called me in to watch you work?"

"No," he sort of snorts at the idea. "I just wanted you to be available, I'm currently waiting on something."

"Something?"

"Yes, something."

"Such as?"

"Such as there has been some movement on the Bryan Wright case, any minute now I'm expecting call that's going to give us the greenlight."

"Greenlight?" I shift in my chair, head tilting to the right.

"Mm-hm, A.D.A. is looking over the facts and then if he believes we've got enough-greenlight."

"To um, to make an arrest?" there can't possibly be enough to arrest. I've been in the thick of it, I wouldn't have missed something that concreate.

"No, but enough to bring her in and go for a confession. Considering the attention and complexities of this case and all of it's surroundings, due diligence was best."

"Her?" it was a stupid question.

"Yeah, her." He looks up, this suspiciously confused look. "Your and Hale's prime suspect."

"No I know." I nod, sitting up straight. "I just was uncertain if you were talking about her or the associate of Wright that I had found."

"Oh," he shakes his head, eyes falling back down to his paperwork. Guess I played it convincingly enough. "No, less work on this one the better. I'm really hoping you two can pull out a confession, quickly and painlessly."

"Of course." I nod, forcing a polite smile onto my face.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Seventh Symphony—6:04 p.m.**_

"Well if it isn't my faux sister's new play thing." Vex greets me with this huge smile, the most perverted look written over his features. "Speaking of, have you seen her?"

"I need your sister." My tone flat enough to wipe the smile right off of his face.

"I may not be particularly fond of the wretched wench, but I'm not quite sure I'd like assist in her murder." He chuckles coldly. "I'd much rather do it myself."

"Lauren is in trouble Vex, trouble that I can't help her out of."

"What happened?" he puts the bottle of tequila down, an odd look in his eyes. I think it's a genuine concern-how odd.

"Do you know where your sister is or not?" he simply raises his left arm, pointing to the far end of the bar, a booth where despite the crowd of people I manage to catch a glimpse of her. "Thank you."

"Detective Dennis." She grins up at me as I approach. This obvious and mutual distain evident in the way she looks at me, the way she says my name. "What do I owe this-pleasure?"

"It's about Lauren."

"Lauren?" she makes this face, I know the look. It's a mixture of hurt and jealousy, a mixture coming from someone like her that comes across as an irritated loathing. I know it well, considering I used to be the same. "Sorry, you must be confusing me with someone who gives a shit." She snorts, picking up her fruity drink and taking a sip. "As I hear, she has a big, strong, detective looking out for her now."

"At five thirty Dyson gave the go ahead for us to bring her in, and at five forty-five my partner went to pick her up. Believe me when I say that you don't want a public defender to handle this."

"Leave." She says flatly, waving her hand dismissing me. My lips part, anger quickly tearing it's way through me. Then I hear the seat behind me wrestle. I glance over my shoulder realizing Evony had company, her dismissal for her rather than me. "Does she know you're here?"

"This isn't an arrest-so long as she doesn't refuse to come along with them, but this isn't a questioning either. They want a confession from her, and they have forty-eight hours to get it."

"Does she know you're here?"

"No."

"Then how do you know she wants my help?"

"Sometimes it's not about what you want, but about what you need."

"How very enlightened of you." She chuckles, lips curving into a _'fuck you'_ smirk.

"She might not have asked, she might not even want it, but I can't protect her. Not this time, not here, but you can."

"What makes you so sure I will?"

"Because I believe you care about her in your own way. I saw the look on your face when they read the not guilty verdict. I saw the look on your face when you looked at her. Even now, beneath the dislike for me, the competitive bullshit you feel, the hurt and jealousy-I can see you care."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." She nods, taking another sip of her drink.

"How very enlightened of you." This time it's me who chuckles, returning her exact smirk.

Friend may be slightly excessive, I think ally of a temporary nature would have been a more accurate description.

Whatever the description may be at the moment, friend or ally. Acquaintance or associate of the moment. I needed her and until I don't, I can manage to swallow my pride and play nice.

The real question though, could she?


	7. Dangerous Game

_**AN:**_ First as always a quick thank you for all of the supports. Second for anyone who read my little onzie—Stillness of Heart, No I did not plagiarize. 3 of the scenes were written for a fic I attempted 6 months ago and wasn't taken to, so I removed it. But when considering the Dawning, I really felt they should have been written for it so that's that. Just wanted to clarify since our fandom has had some issues with theft recently.

Thirdly, sorry for the holdup but as many know this is mid-term month. This chapter is small but as I have the story planed out, the content that needed to be placed here just ended up being smaller. Next chap shall bump back up and will not take two weeks to post.

Thank you,

Pokie.

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><p><em><span><strong>Chapter Six: Dangerous Game<strong>_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

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_**21**__**st**__** Precinct—Interview Room—6:58 p.m.**_

_** They say honesty is the best policy._

_._

_Time to find out if you're the Saint everyone_

_Thinks you are dearest Doctor._

_Or are you just like the rest of us. **_

_._

My eyes go over the lines word by word, letter by letter.

Is it the words striking so close to home or is it the fact that my mystery writer had managed to get a patrol officer to play delivery man?

"Why so serious?" I look up at Evony as she walks through the door, eyes narrow and her features as stoic as ever, but I sense the subtle sway to her walk. The slight glisten to her eyes even within the dim, box like room. She drunk—at least partially. "What's that?"

"Nothing." Lies are becoming as natural as breathing for me. "Don't worry about it." I shove the card into my jacket pocket, eyes locked with hers as she just stands there trying to study me. "How are you here?"

"How am I here?" She chuckles, fingers grazing my shoulder and then along my back as she walks around to the seat beside me. "I think all of the time you've been spending with that little cop has dulled the complexities of your linguistics."

"I meant why are you here?" I glance over at her, scowl firmly on my face.

"Well genuinely when my client is taken into custody I like to attend the questioning."

"I'm not your client."

"But you are."

"But I'm not."

"But you really are." She laughs, eyes closing as she tilts her head from left to right trying to crack her neck.

"Evony." I snap.

"Alright, you want the sappy emotional answer or you want the cold heartless answer."

"You have a sappy side?" my eyebrow rises.

"Option two it is then." She stiffens in her chair, jaw tightening as I begin to recognize this version of my ex. "My law firm has invested a lot of money in your career, in your research and while our personal relationship has come to a mutual end, our professional relationship is one that will continue."

"I wasn't aware I was owned by your law firm."

"We bought your school debt, we got you hired, we amped all of that P.R. You remember the same P.R. that has enabled you to be able to go to the Congo at the beginning of next year."

"Oh how I miss this part of our relationship." I can't help but to snort, shaking my head.

"You choose."

"How the hell did you get in here?" Hale's voice cuts through as he bursts through the door, Bo following close behind.

"Little leather loving birdie." Evony winks, something that earns a scowl from Bo as she takes a seat across from her.

"I see." Hale lets out in a sigh taking his seat across from me.

"What can I say, my brother has connections." Evony winks and I have to look away to keep from smirking.

Call the woman what you'd like, but she did do her job flawlessly, which means despite her distain for Bo she won't sell her out.

I clear my throat, running my hand through my hair, the sudden memory of her telling me how she tried to throw the bank case.

I'm not sure if the waves of uncertainty beginning to wreak havoc in the pit of my stomach is because if she was willing to do that for me supposedly, then if push came to shove for me she would sell Bo out. Or, if this was me subconsciously finally making a decision that I don't believe her.

"If Lauren isn't under arrest then we can simply leave." Evony's words pull me back to the present.

"You do that and we will arrest."

"I'm pretty sure this is illegal."

"I assure you, it's not."

"Would you like to find out how a jury will see this Detective Santiago?"

"Jury?" My brow raising as I look over to her, but she doesn't look back.

"Lauren," he pauses, breaking eye contact with Evony to draw mine. "I like you, I won't bullshit you and try to pretend we're friends, but we've seen each other. We've bullshitted. I have nothing but respect for you, and sympathy for what went down. I promise that had the next slip up these assholes did I would be up their asses. But I cannot allow vigilantes in my city."

"Your city? Getting a bit of a Batman complex there detective?" She scoffs, she's so drunk. "If you want to question my client then do it, save us this good cop routine."

"You really shouldn't have brought her Lauren."

"You cannot advise my client that she does not need an attorney." Evony snaps.

"I cannot advise her of that-if she is under arrest."

"Alright, Jesus." Bo brings her palms down on the table laxly. "As entertaining as this is I have shit to do, real police work that doesn't involve senselessly questioning the good doctor here."

"Touching." Evony mumbles under her breath.

"Okay, let's do it yall's way then." Hale says, his voice and even demeanor is calm, but there is something there. Something because of Bo? Something because of Evony? Something personal? Does he know something about that night? "What do you know about these?" He opens this cheap, ninety-nine cent folder and spreads five photos out. "Tell me about these Lauren."

He taps the table, hand managing to touch three of the photos as he does. Each one a photo of the same mutilated body with the exception of the fifth, that one is a picture of inside a cooler containing several major organs.

These are official-but they aren't.

These were taken with the intent to rattle someone's cage—my cage.

They're too close to be regular shots, but too far to be as if they were focusing on something specific. The angles are all off, something similar to a film student trying to get the goriest shot over the best shot.

"This doesn't turn your stomach Lauren?"

"She's a doctor." Bo says under her breath, and I can't help but look up and start to shake my head.

Evony's hand resting on my knee underneath the table. At first my reaction is to push her hand off, look over at her and ask what the hell is wrong with her. Then I realize it's the subtle way of telling me something. Telling me to think. Telling me to realize Bo is steadily throwing herself under the bus, no need to help her.

"Doctor or not," his words and harsh tone directed at his partner. "There's no way you can be so numb to that. You knew this guy."

"Yes, I did. I knew him as a low life thug, a thug who had battery charges and attempted rapes on his record. I knew him as one of several men who attempted to rob the bank that morning almost four years ago. I knew him as someone who stood by and let Jason Wallace kill my father. That is how I know this man-if you can call him that." I take a breath, eye dropping to the pictures. "He's dead and I don't feel sorry for that. I don't even feel sorry that someone took a little creative leap in their approach of ridding the world of him." I feel Evony squeeze my knee tighter. "But I didn't do this."

"You sure? Cause you seem to be pretty pleased with this work?"

"Having no sympathy for how someone died is not the same as killing them yourself. I may not win any awards for my compassion, but I didn't do this."

"Are you sure?"

"Hale, she answered the question."

"Detective Dennis, do you need to wait outside?" He turns to his partner once again. "Let me remind you aren't working for the defense here."

She needs to back down-she's going to get herself in trouble.

I need to do something-but what?

I use her as my alibi for the night, and I pretty much throw her career away. I use Evony there is a chance she won't go along with it-not to mention I'm not sure she can't represent me if I do. I don't use either and I'm screwed. I know how it sounds, 'No, I was home all alone ladies and gentlemen of the jury', may as well put the handcuffs on myself. I can't use the hospital, there is too many cameras and records. I can't use my brother because well they don't allow visitors at twelve-thirty in the morning.

"Just tell me what happened Lauren." He says, causing me to look back up to him. "Was it self-defense? You can tell me."

Self-defense, really Hale?

It takes a conscious effort not to laugh.

Sure, if they had found him on the floor dead then maybe I could claim self-defense. Then again the wiping of prints and use of bleach might be an indication otherwise. Though the biggest of problems is that somehow he's managed to get himself nearly skinned and gutted. That does not scream self-defense at all.

I could come clean about all of it.

I could explain what happened just like I did to Bo and plead for mercy. Evony is a good enough lawyer to get me some kind of reduced sentence.

Would they believe me?

Would I believe myself if I was in their shoes?

"You know what, I have grown bored of this." Evony says and I think she's cut him off-maybe them by the look they're giving her. "You have something then arrest her, if not then let us go."

"You really want to push me?" His hands lay flat on the desk as he stands up, staring her down. He's going to arrest me, I know it.

"Push you, baby this isn't even a nudge." She smirks, slowly standing herself. I can't help but to shake my head to myself. "But if it will make you sleep better at night, go ahead and give her a polygraph."

Seriously ballsy bluff here.

"Polygraphs are used by small town departments that can't manage to string together decent questioning." Bo pipes in, but remains seated. Even in a situation like this, back nearly against the wall she can manage to appear as though she's in charge. "Eight out of every one-hundred answers falsely test positive regardless. It's bullshit."

"Yeah, well she's getting one." He looks from Bo to Evony, and then finally to me. "If nothing else, just to continue fucking up her night." His words followed by a chuckle, and another glance over us before practically storming out.

"Normally prefer it to get a little more aggressive, but considering I'm seeing two of everything, it wasn't completely boring." Evony says calmly, resuming her seat as if this was something that was as common as breathing.

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><p>.<p>

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_**21**__**st**__** Precinct-Bathroom—7:32 p.m.**_

"What are you doing?" it's just a reaction at this point I guess. A reaction to ask questions I already know the answer to. A reaction to avoid questions I don't feel inclined to answer. A reaction to pretend I'm the innocent bystander in this all. "If Hale catches you in here with me—"

"He's talking to the poly-tech."

"Still." I look away from her, running the irritating excuse for a paper towel over my hands. "You shouldn't have brought Evony here."

"You needed a lawyer."

"No, I didn't."

"That's bullshit and you know it." She snaps, my eyes moving from the trashcan to her. "Look I don't know what this deal is with you and your mood swings. Or where you think you can handle everything on your own, but you can't."

"Bo, I don't need you to protect me." I walk toward her, despite my best effort, eyes meeting hers-resolve quickly dissolving just as I knew it would. "It's one thing for you to try and help behind the scenes, but to go up against your partner? To chance getting caught with me in here—"

"I'm an adult Doctor Lewis, I make my own decisions, but your concern is appreciated." Her lips curve into this nearly nonexistent smirk, but I catch it. "Take this," she holds her hand out toward me, this little red tack resting in her palm. "It'll tear the shit out of your foot, but you won't have a failed poly on the record."

"I thought they didn't hold much weight around here?" my eyebrow raising, eyes moving from the tack to her intense stare.

"They can't be used in court, and most city cops think they're a joke yeah," She nods, eyes shifting down to her hand, a non-verbalized order of sorts. "But there's a stigma that goes along with failing one."

"Thank you," I say softly, hand going over hers. "Really Bo, thank you." I pull my hand back, the faint sound of someone passing outside the door grabbing my attention.

"Lauren," she nearly growls my name as I start to try and pass. Her free hand grabbing my arm just hard enough to stop me. "Just take it."

"I won't need it." I look over, this little smile coming onto my face. It was supposed to be comforting to her-to myself a little as well, but it's not.

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><p>.<p>

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_**21**__**st**__** Precinct—Interview Room—8:00 p.m.**_

"Can we get a move on, I'm starting to sober up and suddenly the quality of eye candy around has dropped exponentially," Evony yawns, leaning into the corner of the room. "With the exception of you of course." She winks, and I can't help but to smirk.

Bo though doesn't seem to find it as amusing as she leans against the door next to Hale, death glares firmly on their faces. Granted for very different reasons at the moment.

I look at the technician in front of me messing with his contraptions. Some nerdy kid who looked more like he should be in school learning how to do this rather than actually administering it.

My eyes shifting to the various wires attached to the things on my arm.

He asks me three test questions. Name, age, sex. True, false, true. All simple enough, no need to regret my decision to refuse the tack-yet.

I don't move in my seat despite being uncomfortable, I'd hate for them to misread my action. Instead I just look forward, staring at Hale's shoulder.

"Do you know Bryan Wright?"

"Yes."

"Do you know anything about the circumstances surrounding his death?"

"No." I see Hale look over at the technician as the _'boy'_ shakes his head subtlety.

"Did you kill Bryan Wright?"

"No." Actually a rather easy question, considering he apparently wasn't dead when I left him.

"Have you had any contact with him since the last day of the trial?"

"No." I watch as Hale and this '_boy_' have the same exchange, Hale's eyes narrowing further.

Guess I'm passing, what does draw my attention though is the way Bo's eyes narrow this time.

"Did you want Bryan or his brother dead?"

"No." I notice Bo's brow furrow further, Hale looking over at her and then back to the screen.

"Do you possess the skill set in order to carry out the actions in which caused Bryan Wright's death?"

"Yes."

"But you yourself did not carry them out?"

"No."

"Did you hire someone to carry these actions out?"

"No."

"So you know absolutely nothing about this?" Hale snaps abruptly, taking a step forward.

"No, I don't."

"You know something, I know you do." His voice raises slightly as he takes another step forward.

"No, I don't." I repeat, eyes shifting back to Bo as she's seemingly enamored on the screen rather than this sudden turn of events.

"Bullshit."

"I don't."

"You killed him didn't you?!" his voice raises further, a large step toward me and I can hear Evony saying something in the background, but it's Bo's silence that grips my attention more than anything. "Didn't you?!" he stands over me, hand slamming on the table.

"That's enough! This is unprofessional and borderline illegal detective."

Hale takes a step back looking-calm. He looks at the screen for a long moment, Evony's voice drowning out as I study his face.

What is it he's after?

"Tell me again how you think she has nothing to do with this." He barks through a near disgusted grin, looking back at Bo who seems—-something.

"You can take her, we're done with her." Bo says, flatly.

"Bo?" her name leaves my mouth without a thought, but she doesn't say a thing.

She doesn't even bother to look at me before following her partner out of the room.

I look over at the technician as he starts to remove the various things attached to me, but the polite presence he once had about him now missing.

Feeling Evony's hand on my shoulder I glance over just as she is leaning down, lips hovering above my ear.

"Next time someone gets in your face like that," she whispers. "Try to appear as though you aren't about to pass out."

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><p>.<p>

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_**Lauren's Apartment—10:41 p.m.**_

"Jesus." I grumble to myself, and looking down at the mattress beside me. More accurately, looking down at my phone that hasn't stopped going off for the past thirty minutes. "I am not interested in a drunken booty call Evony."

_**(That's not what this is about.)**_

"I'm sure."

_**(It's not. Li-)**_

"Look, I know I was a little ungrateful earlier, and I'm sorry about that. I do appreciate it, but I don't want you to think-"

_**(Lauren shut up and listen to me.)**_

"What?" I sit up, something in her voice grabbing my attention.

_**(My assistant is dating a patrol officer.)**_

"Kendra, yeah I remember."

_**(They've been keeping tabs on Taylor since they discovered his brother's body. An hour ago he dropped off the radar. They can't find him. They don't even have a clue where he could be.)**_


	8. The Ties That Bind

_**Chapter Seven: The Ties That Bind**_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

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_**Thursday**_

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_**Ape Trax Recording Studio—12:32 p.m**_

"Well if it ain't Ms. Paula Dean gracing me with her presence." He does that ridiculously annoying slow clap, a tight grin on my lips as I look behind myself shutting the door.

"Cute." I sigh, turning around to face him.

I had intended to walk over to him, take a seat and talk to him as if no time had passed, but instead I find myself frozen in place. It wasn't as if he had changed, same lean athletic build, cocky demeanor that makes it seem as though he owns the room. It sort of reminds me of Bo in a way, though she had a sleek way about her, almost as if she was faking a modesty that you aren't exactly sure is fake. He on the other hand made no such effort. His red Bulls cap pulled down enough to obstruct a clear view of his eyes, unless he tilts his head back.

He's just as I remember him, infectious smile and all, but something is different.

Maybe it's just me that's different.

"What you too good to hug us colored folks now?" He quips, earning a glare as I stop pulling out the seat beside him. "Damn baby girl, that 'fuck you' glare has improved since last I seen you." He laughs standing up, holding his arms out toward me.

I lean forward, arms laxly wrapping around him in one of those hugs that annoy me, the ones that make you think, why even bother. Somewhere between my halfhearted patting of his back and the firm hold he keeps on me, I find myself collapsing into his hold. Face buried in his shoulder, gripping him as if for dare life. Just the smell of him brining back so many memories, memories of a time when I was someone I could stand. A time when I had a family, a time of when I was someone that I think could have had a future with Bo.

"I missed you." He whispers after several long seconds of just holding me. Pulling back he kisses my temple and looks down at me.

"You don't," I trail off, swallowing at the tears that managed to sneak up on me.

"Don't what?" he nods behind me at the chair, before taking his own seat. "Believe CNN? Pfft, you forget why I left Med-school?"

"Bigotry." I smile softly, finally feeling comfortable enough to sit.

"Exactly. Tired of people who don't know their head from their ass shaping the mass perception of the world. Too much bullshit." He laughs, twisting his seat back and forth. "So, whatcha need?"

"What makes you think I need something?"

"Ah Lauren," He shakes his head, an icy chuckle filling the room. "We got baby pictures together, I know you like I know my own blood. Not to mention you haven't answered any of my or Karina's calls. Not before the trial, not during, not even when that verdict was read. So I highly doubt you skipped work to come track me down to shoot the shit, outta the blue."

"How is she?"

"She's-alright. Took the verdict hard, went to see Lachlan after it happened. Let's just say that didn't make things better."

"She went to see Lachlan?" I lean back further into my seat, eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, you know family likes to be around each other when shit like this happens." He smirks, eyes narrowing. He always favored the passive aggressive approach if it was applicable, I guess that hasn't changed.

"Did you go to see him?"

"Me? Naw, you know we haven't been good for a while."

"Yeah." I nod, eyes drifting to the red laces on his otherwise black shoes. Why didn't Lachlan mention that Karina had visited? Did he know the verdict before I told him? "You've heard Bryan Wright is dead?"

"Yeah," he laughs as if I've just told him a joke worthy of a crowd. "Hi, I'm Andre Harris. I'm a producer for primarily urban music and run the youth outreach program on Kedzie. Nice to meet you." He holds his hand out toward me, trying to suppress his laughter.

"You're just full of jokes today." I can't help but to smile, gently swatting his hand away.

"I'm always full of jokes, you just been MIA so long you forgot."

"Well Mr. Ear-To-The-Streets, did you hear his brother is missing?" my smile fading, the semi playful tone to my voice following.

"Naw, that I haven't heard."

"Yep. Last night Evony got word that he slipped away from his police tail."

"So I repeat baby girl, what do you need?" There's no smile on his face now, no playfulness lacing his interesting mixture of Atlanta and Chicago accent. He leans back, tilting his head up just enough so his eyes meet mine.

"I um," I hesitate, swallowing hard, but I can't manage to tear my eyes away from his. "Can you find him, follow him?"

"Follow him?"

"I can pay you, I mean it'll have to be a bit considering my current situation, but you know I'm good for it."

"First, did you really offer to pay me?" In one swift motion he pulls off his hat, tossing it at me. "My surprise was because I was kinda expecting a different answer."

"Yeah." I nod, looking down at his cap in my hands. A small smile coming over my face unconsciously as I remember his seventeenth birthday. The five of us at a Bulls game, I can't even remember who they were playing. Maybe the Lakers-the Knicks? What I do remember is never laughing so hard. My father and Uncle teasing Lachlan for rooting against us. Myself, Andre and Karina getting into a popcorn fight.

Memories of a life long lost.

"I got you." He extends his leg, nudging my own with his foot.

"You're um," I bring my eyes back up to his. "You'll do this yourself?"

"Family takes care of its business." He nods, this silence coming over us.

It's not an awkward silence, but it's heavy. It's the type that gives you the illusion it's hard to breathe. It's the kind that gives you the reminder that what you're agreeing too is far from ethical. The kind that slowly reminds you how much you've changed, how much he's changed.

It's the kind of silence that makes you wonder if you ever really knew yourself to begin with.

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><p>.<p>

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_**New Hope Recovery Center—2:46 p.m.**_

"Careful, I may start to think you actually like me again." He chuckles, looking around as we walk along this maroon stone path.

"We couldn't have that."

"Humor?" He looks over at me, causing me to look up into his eyes.

My first instinct is to tell him about seeing Andre, tell him that it was good to remember what it felt like to feel safe. To remember what it was like to feel I had a family. To be myself, the old and the new. The good and the bad and have someone not blink an eye.

Then I remember that for whatever reason he didn't tell me about Karina. I remember all the nasty little questions that brings up.

"Must be from lack of sleep." I force a smirk and look back to the path.

"Why are you here?"

"I need a reason?"

"You're pretty self-centered Lauren."

"I'm not self-centered, I just practice self-preservation." I glance over at him. "Taylor Wright is missing."

"Right," He snorts. "You want me to take care of it?"

"Take care of it?" I stop, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

He stares at me surprised, and I find myself a little surprised at my actions. Then it hits me for the first time, a crazy near impossible thought, but knocks the metaphorical wind out of me none the less.

What if he killed Bryan?

"Yeah, I mean shit Lauren, I still know people. Some not nice people that do some very not nice things for a cheap fee."

"You know people?" It's a question that was supposed to stay in my mind, something to mull over, but it manages to slip passed my lips regardless of intention.

"Yeah, I know them. Not like in the sense of inviting them over for Sunday dinner, but know them as in we have an understanding."

"An understanding?" I nod, eyes moving from his face to the nurse behind him about fifty or so feet taking an intense interest in us. "Well, you can keep your understandings to yourself. I want nothing to do with them."

"Then what exactly is your plan? Hide in your apartment and turn into a fucking hermit?"

"I have it covered." It's not a lie, I do have it covered-mostly.

"Too damn stubborn to know when to accept help when it's needed."

"I can accept help, I just don't want-"

"Mine?"

"No, I don't want your particular kind of help."

"Well, then I guess it's good you already have a plot right next to mom and dad's already paid for." His words one of the lowest blows he's ever stooped to.

He doesn't say another word, just smirks coldly at me before turning and walking back toward the facility.

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><p>.<p>

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_**Lauren's Apartment—4:07 p.m.**_

"I swear one day I will be able to come home and not have someone waiting for me." I sigh out, tossing my keys on the little stand next to the door. Evony just staring at me from her seat at the kitchen island. Beer in hand and this disappointed look written over her face.

"You weren't returning my calls, so." She trails off, giving me this shrug, but doesn't bother to look over.

"I've been busy."

"Bo?"

"No, actually." I answer slipping from my jacket before tossing it onto the back of the couch.

"What were you doing?"

"I went to see Lachlan."

"And?"

"And, I think you're coming close to crossing personal boundaries."

"You're going to have to trust me Lauren," she takes a drink, spinning around on the stool to face me. "Whether or not you want to."

"I do trust you." For the most part. "When it comes to my defense, I wouldn't trust anyone else."

"And when it's not pertaining to your defense?"

"Do you really want to go there?"

"I guess that's my answer then." She takes another drink, looking away from me, off toward the blind covered window.

"I trust you with my life, isn't that enough?" It's not meant to be cold, but there's something about my words-maybe the statement itself that makes it seem otherwise.

"Detective Santiago was disciplined for his little stunt, but nothing more than a slap on the wrist unfortunately." Sip. "So don't be surprised if he pops up again."

"I expected you to get him a little more than a slap on the wrist, losing your touch?" It's a jab, but one of good nature.

"It's a little hard to get him reprimanded."

"Connections?" I snort, giving up and walking to the fridge to get myself a drink. If you can't beat them, may as well join them.

"More like a certain A.D.A. personally gave him a little guidance on how to proceed in your case." She stops as I turn around to face her. "It's also with a little guidance from the A.D.A that the police find themselves married to a particular theory."

"A particular theory?" My brow raises, rim of the bottle meeting my lips as I walk the few feet up to the unoccupied side of the island.

"Yeah, you know the particular theory that a certain doctor is the only one who could have possibly been responsible for this. Despite the fact that the list of possible suspects in reality is upward of hundred."

"Upward?"

"Take every plausible person in the bank. Take every drug dealer he's ripped off and their bosses, and their bosses' bosses. A few of his exes he liked to smack around, exes who now have boyfriends far scarier than him."

"So, I think I know what you're trying to tell me, but I want to hear you say it."

"No, I'm good."

"Evony."

"Lauren," She rolls her eyes at me, taking another drink just about finishing her bottle. "Last time I tried to tell you anything about your friend I got fucked, and not in the way I like."

"Evony." I repeat, this time gentler. Maybe it was seeing Andre this afternoon and then Lachlan. Maybe being on the receiving end of my current approach, and being on the end of kinder one that's making me remember you catch more bees with honey.

"Hale's a good and honest cop, but you put a guilty suspect in front of him and he turns into a rabid pitbull. It's actually a quality I like, borrowing this instance."

"Is this your way of telling me you think I'm guilty?"

"Get one thing clear Lauren, I don't care one way or another if you're guilty." She says it with such conviction, eyes peering into mine-I almost remember why I fell for her so long ago. She didn't have many, but the good qualities she did have were always an all or nothing situation. "What I am saying, based on what I know to be fact, and what I'm hearing-Hale thinks you're guilty because of your friend."

"I-" I'm cut off by the sound of my phone. "Excuse me." I say pulling it from my pocket, honestly I expected it to be Bo, but it's not. "Andre?"

_**(Are you alone?)**_

"No, but it's fine."

_**(You sure?)**_

"Yeah." I say, eyes meeting Evony's, pure curiosity deep within them.

_**(I found your boy.)**_

"So fast? That's great."

_**(Yeah, what ain't is that the he isn't as much of a doughboy as he has people believing.) **_

"What?"

_**(He knew who I was-to you. We got into it a bit-)**_

"Are you alright?"

_**(Pft. He ain't that tough baby girl, but he did get away. Don't worry I'll pick him back up, but I just wanted to warn you.)**_

"Dre," I sigh his name, the realization this is the first time I've used his nickname in years. An odd reminder of how much he once meant to me. A reminder of how much he still does. "It's too much, just let it go."

_**(Baby pictures Lauren.) **_The line goes dead and I can't help the sick feeling building in the pit of my stomach.

"That's who you went to see today?"

"Yes." I sigh, running my hand through my hair as I toss my phone down.

"Why?"

"Because I remembered Lachlan wasn't my only brother."

"Then why are you upset."

"Because I remember Lachlan isn't my only brother." I can't help but to shake my head at myself, clarity beginning to feel like nothing more than a carrot on a string being dangled in front of me.

I always knew there was a gray area, but I don't think you ever truly understand the meaning of a 'gray' area until you find yourself living within it. Waking up in it. Going to sleep in it. It's consuming.

"Here." She says grabbing my attention, her keys sliding across the island top toward me. "Don't argue, just do it."

"Um, sure." I snort. "What exactly am I doing?"

"Switching apartments."

"Evony-"

"I said no arguing."

"Firstly, I'm not a child. Secondly, I can't."

"Look, by tomorrow morning either the police or Andre will have Taylor back under surveillance. But tonight it would just make things easier if you were somewhere safe. Somewhere that no one could possibly know."

I look from her eyes down to the keys.

A million and one questions swirling around my mind, my carrot of clarity drifting further and further away.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Evony's Apartment—9:17 p.m.**_

"Hey," I greet softly, eyes narrowing only when I see the less than pleased look written over her features. "Did you have trouble finding the place?" Deciding to avoid confrontation, I step aside pushing the door further open.

"No." Simply she shakes her head and walks in just enough to clear the door.

"Did you have trouble making it up here, the guard downstairs can be a pain?"

"Nope, something about my badge tends to get me where I want to go." Another nod, her hands stuffed in her dark jeans pockets.

"Working tonight?"

"Not really."

"Then would you like a drink?" A courtesy extended as I already find myself drifting toward the liquor cabinet. Kind of wish this was left at my apartment.

"No, thank you."

"Abstaining?" a nervous chuckle escaping as I glance over my shoulder, hands idly filling my glass of scotch.

"No, just not sure I'll be here long enough."

"Ah." I nod, I'm sure I make a face, but given the fact my back is still to her it doesn't concern me much.

"Lauren?"

"Yep?" I turn around, leaning against the ledge of cabinet. Eyes finding hers as I take a drink.

"Why exactly am I here?"

"Thought you liked my company." Another drink, but it's cut short as I see her start to turn toward the door. I guess that wasn't the correct answer. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah." Her jaw tenses as she gives me this nod or sorts. "The truth-if it isn't too much trouble." I can't help but to smirk as I look away, placing my glass down behind myself.

"I'm scared." I look up, finding her gaze once again. "I'm scared and I'm lonely, not lonely because I have no one around me, but lonely because I have no one." I take a step forward, but only a step. "It's rare for me, but it happens from time to time. When it does I call Evony, and who knows, maybe I should have tonight. It's a safe bet for me."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because when I picked up the phone, I realized I wasn't looking for a safe bet."

"Then," her voice low, hands slipping from her pockets as it's her turn to take a step toward me. "What were you looking for?"

"I don't know." I laugh softly, shaking my head and giving her this soft smile. "I don't know any more what I am looking for-what I am doing. Maybe, if we're being honest," my words trail off, eyes dancing over her face as we take a step toward each other. "I never knew."

"It take a lot of strength to admit that."

"Maybe, but this-it's not strength."

"No?" Her eyes move up my face, and I can't help but wait until they reach my eyes to speak.

"No, this is someone who's gotten a dose of reality. An angry and stubborn child throwing a tantrum who is beginning to grasp the destruction she's left in her path."

"You had—have, every right to be angry. No one can ever argue that."

"Possibly, but this isn't who I was raised to be."

"Sometimes not being who you were raised to be, is a good thing." She swallows, looking away from me and I want to reach out, bring her gaze back to mine-but I don't.

"Well I assure you in my case, it isn't." I might not reach out and touch her, but I take another step closer. "Who I was raised to be—she would be worth what you're risking."

"I don't know," She does this little chuckle-snort thing and for a second I feel myself start to tense. "I think who you are becoming is worth it."

"Who I'm becoming?" A soft laugh escaping, held tilting ever so slightly to the left as I try to figure out what she means.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I would have loved who you were. I mean after all, she was who grabbed my attention first." She smirks, and I can't help but to return it. "Call me crazy, but there are times I look at you and I see someone lost-and that's what makes me want to help you. That's what makes me feel it's worth it Lauren."

"I—I don't get it."

"If you weren't lost, then everything that has happened would mean you thought it out, did it deliberately and that would make you just another criminal. But this, everything happening—just bad decisions and mistakes made by someone who hasn't found her way back to the path yet."

"That's-pretty insightful."

"I speak from experience. I can never know what you felt that day-but I did lose something. I lost pieces of myself, it gave me an excuse to run. It gave me an excuse to go to a very dark place-so I know what it feels like."

"How do you mean?" My eyes moving over her face, her features by far the gentlest I've ever seen them. This pain hidden just beneath the surface of her gaze, a gaze she now trying to keep from me.

"It doesn't matter what I mean." She shakes her head, voice breaking and I swear I catch a glimpse of tears threatening to spill. "What matters is that you're realizing that you want to change."

"Bo," Her name leaving my lips as a whisper, eyes moving to the floor behind her. "About yesterday, and the—"

"I don't want to go there." She shakes her head, taking a step back.

"I haven't lied to you."

"I wish I could believe that." It's a sigh mixing with a whisper, her features tensing once more.

"You asked me why I called you tonight, it was because every time I looked at my phone all I could think about was you." I smile softly, the heavy feeling on my chest stirring the feeling of tears. She goes to speak but there's a knock on the door.

She looks at me, and I just shake my head.

"Stay here." She says quietly, drawing her weapon and walking toward the door.

I know what she said, but I can't help but to take a few steps forward. My heart beginning to race, as I feel the adrenaline starting to course through my body. Evony would have called-she wouldn't have knocked like she's trying to break the door down. There isn't another soul that knows I'm here.

She uses her left hand to pull the door open, right hand tightly gripping her drawn weapon.

I draw in a deep breath and hold it…..

…..but nothing happens.

In fact she looks slightly puzzled.

"Bo?" I ask, walking up behind her. "Oh shit." I laugh, eyes finding a highly confused Andre. "Sorry, I completely forgot I told him I was here."

"She's sexy, a little too high-strung though for my taste." He laughs out. "Excuse me." He continues as he maneuvers right passed Bo who is slowly starting to re-holster her weapon. "Damn. Ev got some money, fuck Med-school, should have done law school." Another laugh, as he looks at the overly lavish apartment.

"Med-school?" Bo lets out, pushing the door closed.

"Bo this Andre, Andre this is Bo." I gesture toward each one, though pointless since neither is looking at me. "And yes, Med-school. He attended college and part of Med-school with me, before dropping out to become a producer."

"Well when you say it in that tone," he laughs, walking over to me. "It sounds bad."

"No matter what tone is used, it doesn't sound good." I chuckle softly, though it's only for a moment as I realize Bo has that same look she gets when I'm near-or even speaking about Evony. "This is my brother-for all intents and purposes."

"Oh," She hesitates, eyes shifting between the two of us. "Oh." She laughs with a nod. "Your father's partner's son."

"Ooo, she's bright too." He looks over at me, trying not to laugh. "I like her."

"Thanks." Bo laughs, reach into her pocket for her phone. "Excuse me a minute." She says, walking off toward the kitchen.

"I sense trouble all over that girl." He laughs out, shaking his head as he walks to the couch.

"She's-you're right." I chuckle, taking a seat next to him. "But, it's the right kind of trouble."

"Mm-hm, by the way those jeans fit I bet it is."

"Stop it." I laugh out, playfully hitting his arm.

"What? Sharing is caring."

"I'm going to—"

"To what? Huh? Huh?" He teases, arms wrapping around me as he leans against me. "Huh? Gonna what?" He keeps laughing as I struggle against him.

Just like that we're kids again-and just like that we're not.

Our laughter draws to a silence as we see Bo coming toward us.

It's not her presence that cause us to stop, but rather the look on her face.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, sitting back up straight as Andre follows my example.

"No." She whispers, shaking her head as she looks down at her phone in her hand.

"Your sister? Hale?"

"No, no. It's not about me." She looks up, eyes meeting mine the second she does. "That was Hale, he's in the ambulance with Evony. They're rushing her to Saint Mark's, apparently there was-a break in."


	9. Consequences Part 1

**A.N. **A huge thank you to InevitablyWicked19, for of course putting up with me, but in this particular case, PRing as well :)

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>Chapter Eight: Consequences Part. 1<strong>_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

.

.

.

_**Friday**_

.

.

.

_**Saint Mark's Hospital, Room 201—12:07 a.m.**_

What did I do?

I run my hands through my hair, massaging my scalp a bit as I do. The throbbing in my head refusing to give me a moment's peace. Though, sitting here in the corner of a hospital room because I'm too ashamed to move any closer to the bed, while looking at the repercussions of my actions-I'm not so sure I deserve that moment of peace.

Multiple bruises, lacerations, fractures and three broken ribs to her right side. They said miraculously no internal bleeding or brain swelling, but she still shows no signs of waking.

Jesus, Evony, why would you stay there?

I thought this was all just-I never thought she would stay in the apartment.

It was such a rare chance he would be able to find my apartment, it's why I wasn't worried about staying. Even so, I thought she would stay at a hotel. Stay with any one of her boy-toys-or girl-toys for that matter.

Why would she do this?

Why would she be so damn stubborn?

"I'm sorry."

I look over to my far right, Andre sitting on the small couch underneath the window between the hall and the room. It's odd to hear him speak without that cocky tone to his voice, now it's just a flat guilt ridden whisper. He leans forward, sitting on the edge, elbows on his knees as he stares at Evony the same way I have been doing for the past few hours.

He only met her a handful of times, before I started pulling away. Something about them just clicked though, maybe it's what drew me to Evony, she reminded me of him.

"It's not your fault." My own tone matching his.

Another twist of guilt in my heart as I see swelling of his left eye. I hadn't noticed before, or perhaps it just wasn't a pronounced then. Perhaps I was too preoccupied with myself to notice anything or anyone else.

Reality can be a bitch.

"I'll find him."

"Don't."

"I should have been out there, it was my fault."

"Dre, this is my fault." My voice rises slightly, something which pulls his attention over to me. "These are a result of my ill-conceived thought process, which resulting in a slew of poor choices."

"You always could make any sentience sound professional." He snorts, shaking his head before letting it hang. His hands cupping over the back of his neck.

"I think you meant to say cold."

"I think you already know what I mean, so no need to add an inquisitive undertone to your words."

"Cold is what's kept me from falling apart."

"Maybe you should have fallen apart Lauren," his attention snaps over to me. "Maybe you should have just broke. Fallen to pieces with me and Karina-hell maybe it would have snapped Lachlan outta his bullshit. Shit, even falling apart to Evony. This cold, distance yourself, make everything professional-it's bullshit."

"It's how I've survived."

"Surviving isn't living." His features twist into this pain ridden expression, and I can't help the twist of pain surging through my chest. "We were taught to live Lauren. After your mom, and then mine-they made sure that we weren't just surviving. They made sure to teach us that, that isn't enough. Even after my father, yours made sure to keep installing that value in us."

"Shut up." I snap, voice breaking as I feel tears slipping down my tensed jaw.

"When I dropped out of Med-school your father asked me one question, if it would make me happy. I told him I felt alive when I was making music. He threw his arm around me and said then he's proud of me for being man enough to do something I truly wanted, even if it wasn't going to be understood. You went with a hospital over laboratory for the same reason. Lachlan a prosecutor over defending criminals, despite the money."

"This is deferent!"

"It's not!" He leaps to his feet, taking two steps toward me, just enough into the light that I can see the tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Andre—"

"I'm not just sorry about tonight, that wasn't what I was apologizing for."

"Just—" I stand, going to reach for him, but he steps back.

"Lachlan was the oldest, he was supposed to watch out for you, for us. I'm sorry because I wasn't man enough to see that I was the one who needed to. I'm sorry because I wasn't able to be who our fathers taught me to be. I shouldn't have relied on phone calls, I should have given up on them. I shouldn't have let you push us away. I shouldn't have sat back while watching Lachlan drag himself-and you down. I should have been with you in that courtroom." His voice breaks as he looks away. "That's what I'm sorry for Lauren."

"They-am I interrupting?" Bo's voice cuts through, along with the sound of the door squeaking as she pushes it open.

"Naw. It's fine." Andre decides for the both of us. "I'll catch up with ya'll later." He blurts out, already making his way to the door. He makes sure to keep his face turned away from Bo as he maneuvers passed her.

"I'm sorry, last I checked both of you were catatonic." She looks out into the hall, I assume watching him storm away.

"It's fine. Family issues."

"Yeah, you two really seem to take that family bond serious." Her words skeptical, or maybe it's just inquisitive as she shuts the door and takes a seat on the couch.

"We have baby pictures." I chuckle quietly to myself using his words, taking my own seat.

"Right. Not quite sure what that means, but whatever works." A soft smile on her lips, eyes running over me in a rather unique way. She's checking if I'm okay, but it's sort of-cold. I assume it's the same way she would assess a victim. Problem is I'm not the victim, Evony is the victim and I'm the-accessory.

"Did you find anything?"

"A few crumbs, nothing worth mentioning."

"I like crumbs." Eyes shifting from Evony to meet Bo's.

"Lauren," she sighs heavily, glancing away. "Screw it, what's another few laws broken, right?"

"I'm sorry, I—"

"It's not you." She shakes her head, this apologetic smile curving her lips. "It would appear as though that the suspect—"

"Taylor Wright."

"The suspect managed to get in undetected, found Evony in the kitchen—looking in the fridge we assume and tried to slam the door on her—maybe hit her head on the door. The theory is that he didn't want to hurt her."

"Have you seen her?"

"From what we can tell, is that Evony wasn't knocked out from the initial blow. She fought back, which is what did most the damage to herself, to the apartment as well would support. There are certain things that look like they were cleaned in a hurry, so the techs were trying to pull some evidence."

"What does it matter? We know who did this."

"We need evidence to support that Lauren, until then it's all circumstantial."

"That seems to be enough to have Hale trying to drag me to the gas chamber."

"Lauren-"

"What about the cameras? The building has several."

"We already pulled them, and Hale's been going through them."

"And?" I can feel myself growing agitated at her lack of communication.

"He hasn't found anyone, whoever this was knew where the cameras were. He was out of sight the entire time."

"Well, that's just-great." I snort a chuckle, leaning back into my seat as my eyes settle back onto Evony.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Seventh Symphony—8:49 a.m.**_

"Vex?" I call out, walking through the dark and uniquely empty bar. "Vex, I know you're here."

You never leave.

Walking further up, hands on the bar top as I peer over, but nothing. I start to head for the back, a sigh escaping as I expect the worst. One time I surprised him in the morning and found in mid-act with several dominatrix, an image I would love to wash from my mind.

"Vex?" I say loud enough so I know he can hear me through the door, before actually pushing it open.

"Oh! Come in to my humble sex-abode." He laughs incoherently from the floor. He's leaning slumped up against the bed, a bottle of Jack Daniel's in hand. "We have many toys, edibles and restraint-for whatever it is you're into, you little minx." Another laugh as he winks with both eyes, bringing the practically empty bottle up to his lips.

"Oh, Vex." I sigh to myself, yet another twist of guilt working its way through me.

"Don't!" He yells, stopping me mid-step. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me!"

"I don't." I feel sorry for myself actually.

"Bullshit! I know you-goody Lauren, with her sympathetic eyes and perfect hair-and arms."

"What?" I stare at him a moment in confusion. "Come on." I say nicely, trying to pull the bottle from his hand. "Give me."

"No!"

"Give me."

"No!"

"Give me the damn bottle." I snap, tugging it just as he releases his grip. The bottle slipping from my hand and shattering over the floor.

"Uh-oh mummy! Little Miss. Perfect Shoes made a mess." He continues to laugh, falling forward against my legs.

"I know you're trying to insult me, but it's not working." This time his response just a grumble on my legs. Reaching down, I slip my arms underneath his and attempt to pull him up. "You've got to help me out here."

"Is she dead yet? Can the festivities begin?"

"Stop it." I snap, but the weight he's putting on me as he stands dulls the anger.

"What? You're thinking it too! Evony gone, and you're guilt free to roam about the cabin with that—"

"Enough." This time the anger is there as I shove him back onto the bed.

"Ooo, me likey. Do it harder!" He laughs, eyes already closing as I throw a blanket over him.

"Sleep it off." I shake my head, as much as I wanted to be angry at him—I couldn't.

If there's one thing I've learned as of lately, it's that everyone handles their pain differently. My way is leaving a path of destruction a mile long and a mile wide.

So honestly, who am I to judge?

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Evony's Apartment—8:17 p.m.**_

_**Bo:**__ How are you? __**(8:18 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Alright. __**(8:18 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ At the hospital? __**(8:18 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ No. At home. __**(8:18 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Well, my temporary home I should say. __**(8:19 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Is Andre there? __**(8:19 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ No, he's off somewhere. We haven't really spoken since the hospital. __**(8:19 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ I'm sorry. __**(8:19 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Don't be. We'll get over it, we always do. __**(8:20 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Baby pictures? __**(8:20 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Yes, lol. __**(8:20 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Can you tell me what exactly that means? __**(8:20 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ It means how it sounds. We have baby pictures together. Along with fist, second, third grade and so on. It was a saying his father used to say when we argued as children. __**(8:21 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ It would be nice to see you two interact some time when the situation isn't so dire. __**(8:21 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I don't know, at the moment the situation doesn't seem like it can be anything but. __**(8:21 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ It'll pass. __**(8:22 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Sound pretty confident. __**(8:22 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ I am. __**(8:22 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ I need to ask you something, about Evony. __**(8:23 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Shoot.__** (8:23 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Did she have a gun? Or did you have a gun in the house? __**(8:23 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ No. Why? __**(8:23 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Did you still have the knife in the house? __**(8:24 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ No. I'll repeat, why? __**(8:24 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ We've been going over the evidence. We can't figure out exactly why the fight moved upstairs into the bedroom. __**(8:25 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I honestly don't know. Maybe she was just trying to get away. __**(8:25 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Maybe. __**(8:25 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ What are you thinking Detective? __**(8:25 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ You know there's times when you say that and it's extremely sexy and endearing. Other times though, it's just cold a__n__d almost insulting. __**(8:26 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Which are you siding with at the moment? __**(8:26 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ How did you mean it? __**(8:26 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Well I wasn't aware it was sexy, but I was going along the lines of endearing. __**(8:26 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Well in that case, I guess breaking the law once more isn't so bad. Are you sure the knife isn't still in the house somewhere? Because if it is and they find it, it's all over Lauren. __**(8:27 p.m.)**_

_**Me**__: It's not. __**(8:28 p.m.)**_

.

It really isn't, it's here.

I look over to my navy blue, Saint Mark's Hospital gym bag. The knife wrapped in a plastic bag along with Bryan's phone, placed in a black, zipped case all the way at the bottom. Buried far beneath everything I brought with me.

It wasn't the smartest thing to keep evidence which pointed to me as the killer, but I had heard one to many stories about idiotic attempts at getting rid of evidence which lead to them being caught.

And as it would turn out, I'm not a criminal mastermind so my attempt would most likely be something that got me caught.

I look down at the phone in my hand.

I suppose I could ask her to get rid of it for me, after all isn't that what she would do if I said it was at the house.

NO!

I shake my head at myself, catching my train of thought going somewhere dark.

.

_**Me:**__ I'd ask if you'd like to get a drink, but something tells me it might not be the smartest course of action. __**(8:35 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Why? Scared I'd take advantage of you? Lol __**(8:35 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Lol no, though if that's on the tabl,e I may have to reconsider not inviting you. __**(8:35 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Oh really? __**(8:36 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ Lol. As I was saying…..it might not be best for your career to be seen with me. __**(8:36 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ I don't think my career could sink much lower than it already is. __**(8:36 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ I'm sorry. __**(8:37 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Not your fault. __**(8:37 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ But it is. __**(8:37 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Let's not go there. __**(8:38 p.m.)**_

_**Me**__: Sure. __**(8:38 p.m.)**_

.

I look up from my phone to the bedroom door, my smile vanishing.

This is the third time I heard a noise, first two time so faint I brushed them off-but this I know was something.

I stare at the door waiting-waiting for anything.

There's nothing. Not even another peep.

Is this me?

Am I starting to lose my mind?

.

_**Bo: **__Do you work tomorrow? __**(8:38 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ Are you okay? __**(8:43 p.m.)**_

_**Me: **__Yes, I'm sorry. I thought I heard something. __**(8:43 p.m.)**_

_**Bo:**__ You thought, or you did? __**(8:43 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ It's fine, just paranoia setting in I guess. __**(8:44 p.m.) **_

_**Bo: **__Lauren call the security desk, get them to send someone up. __**(8:44 p.m.)**_

_**Me:**__ It's fine. Really.__** (8:45 p.m.)**_

_**Bo**__: Lauren, either call them or I'm sending a squad car. __**(8:45 p.m.)**_

_._

I look down at my phone to reply, to tell her I'm being paranoid, but then I hear it again.

I slide from the bed, vibrating phone in hand as I walk to the door.

It could be anything.

The neighbors. The walls settling. A mouse in the walls. Something outside. Something in the kitchen shifting. It could be Vex—he has keys. It could be Andre-but I didn't give him keys. The door is locked-isn't it?

I grip the doorknob, taking a breath as I pull it open.

The door comes slamming back, the edge of the door hitting me in the face causing me to stubble back.

I don't have time to process the pain, or the blood flowing into my left eye.

A massive weight hitting my body sending me flying down onto the floor.

Phone flying from my hand, the back of my head hitting the hardwood hard enough to stun me for a moment.

I try and get up on reaction, though the weight it still there.

Opening my eyes, focusing the best I can though one good eye and a blood blurred one I find myself staring up into dead eyes.

Taylor Wright's eyes.


	10. Consequences Part 2

**Chapter Nine: Consequences Part. 2**

**(Lauren's POV)**

.

.

.

"How good to see you Doctor." He snarls, leaning up as he grabs my jaw and slams my head down against the floor three-four times. "How's that feel?" He pushes off me, bringing himself to his feet.

I want to get up-I have every intention of getting up.

I can't though.

The sting of the blood in my eye, the odd ringing in my ears, the now throbbing in the back of my head, along with the slam to the floor all proving to be too much.

"How," The heel of his foot pressing down against the side of my right knee. "Does," Harder. "That," Harder. "Feel?"

"It hurts!" It's a yell stifled by a sob, tears slipping from my eyes as I try to roll onto my side.

"Oh I'm sorry." He laughs, taking his foot from my knee which allows me to finally roll onto my side. "How about this?" His question followed by a halfhearted kick to my back, earning a groan of pain from myself. "Where's the fight now?" Reaching down, he pulls me up by the arm, throwing me back onto the bed. "What I can't understand is why go after him? He wasn't the one who put a bullet in your old man. He didn't touch you."

I push across the bed the best I can, images of the night in the bar coming back. The look Taylor has in his eyes now looking down at me, the same exact one his brother had when he threw me on the table.

Could I have been wrong about him?

I had thought he was a decent kid sucked into a world which guided him into delinquency. I had expected him to be a better man than his brother.

Would he move from simple aggravated battery to aggravated sexual battery?

Would that line be crossed just to prove a point? Just to show me the same lack of respect he thinks I showed his beloved brother?

He grabs me by my ankles, pulling me down the bed to him. Hands gripping the sheets, but all it does it pull them with me. I can see now what Andre meant about him being more than expected.

"They say he was alive when you started cutting pieces off of him." He slaps at my hands as I reach up trying to push him back. "You couldn't just kill him?" His hand manages to grab both of mine, his free one coming down open palm on my face.

The sing spreading across my cheek hushed by the realization, even dormant he's is still between my legs.

I can't get to the knife.

Well I could, but it just wouldn't be usable. Unless he would be kind enough to wait while I unwrapped it.

"You're just as sick as Jason." He growls trying to push my hands above my head, but my constant struggle becoming too much for his single hand hold. "My brother was a woman abusing, junkie, prick who I knew would be taken out one day." His words becoming breathy, continuing to struggle with me. "But NOT like that!"

The spike in his voice coming as his right knee moves onto the bed, leaning over me trying to pin my hands down.

Wrong move.

With the majority of his weight shifted to the right it allows me to hike my left leg back. With as much strength as I could possibly manage, I bring my foot into his stomach.

It sends him falling back toward to the right as I hopped, crashing into the nightstand on his way down to the floor.

Quickly I push myself off the bed, only to fall to the floor as my foot gets caught in the disarrayed sheet. A surge of pain spreading from my knees up into my thighs.

Can't stop.

Pushing myself I run from the room, down the short hall. Hand on the railing as I trying to keep my balance down the stairs.

It doesn't help though.

There's a sudden blow to my lower back and for a moment it doesn't register.

It doesn't even register what's happened as I find myself tumbling down the stairs.

Not even when I find my head slamming against the floor forcing me to a halt.

It's only when I look over to my right and see Taylor sprawled out on his belly, eyes closed and blood covering his face that I realize I just was thrown down the stairs.

I can't move.

It's a lie, I'm moving in a trembling sort of way. Pain radiating from every single inch of my body. Though the tears streaming from my eyes on their own volition seem to be clearing my vision-in a way.

I gasp struggling to breathe, a false sense of security coming over me.

Then I hear it.

The odd and somewhat disturbing sound of flesh sliding across marble flooring. The sound of a groan following.

I roll onto my side away from him, hand reaching out to try and push myself up. His hands already on my side pulling me onto my back. He throws his torso half onto mine to keep me in place.

He's hurt.

He mumbles something, blood spilling from his mouth onto me. The dead look in his eyes still very present, but there is something surfacing.

Fear.

Using my still mobile hand I reach over myself, closing my eyes and press my thumb against his left eye.

A yell of agony filling the loft, a jolt of pain strong enough to get him up to his knees as he jerks back.

Wasting no time, a new wave of adrenaline surging through me. I roll onto my stomach, using my feet to push me up the floor, desperately needing distance between him and myself.

My fingertips meet the rim of the area rug, palms pressing against the floor as I push myself up.

A newly familiar pressure to my lower back sending me stumbling into the arm of the couch-the only thing that keeps me from falling back to the floor.

Managing to spin around in his clumsy hold, I push at his face-his hands clawing at my shoulders trying to get a decent hold.

Our feet equally as clumsy as we stumble back and forth.

Stopping only when I feel the ledge of the coffee table cut into the back of my knees.

At first all I can think of it the new rush of pain, then why am I think about this while struggling with someone trying to kill me.

Then it dawns on me-the table is glass.

Grabbing the back of his neck as hard as I can, I throw my weight not only back, but to the left. I burry my face against his chest as we go crashing down, through the once thought to be thick glass.

"Fuck!" I can't help but to cry out through a new wave of tears, a shard cutting effortlessly through my leg.

Gasping once again for breath, I look over at him, this odd mixture of relief and guilt spreading rapidly deep within my chest. His dead eyes staring into mine, but this time they're not cold-just empty. His boyish features stained in his own blood. A large shard of glass protruding from his throat.

I may not have been the one to kill his brother, but him I am responsible for. Oddly this time, the longer I stare at him, the guilt doesn't lessen. I looked at his brother and what little guilt was stripped away piece by piece, but now-it's different.

"CPD!" A bellowing voice calls out a mere second after I hear the sound of wood cracking. I can't see them, the couch in the way, but I do see the light filling the otherwise dark loft as it flows in from the hall.

"Here." I announce weakly, trying to raise my right arm.

Keyword: Trying.

"Bo." I say her name to myself, a faint whisper with an equally faint smile as I feel my eyes close.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Saint Mark's Hospital, Room 326—10:23 p.m.**_

"Black Widow would be a fitting nickname, if you're ever looking for one."

"Thank you." I smile softly, ignoring her smart-ass comment.

"For thinking up a nickname?" She smirks and gives this little shrug.

"For saving me."

"They said you might be a little fuzzy, it wasn't me who came to your rescue."

"You sent them." I smile weakly, the mixture of a sedative and natural depletion having an interesting effect. It's hard to even keep my eyes open.

There's so much I want to say, so much I need to say rather, but I just watch her. She makes quips, but I know she's worried. I must admit, it brings a strange sense of pleasure to see her this distraught over my wellbeing. I'm sure there's a nice way to say that, but hell, it's not like she can hear me.

She leans against the door, just watching me and the floor.

"Where's your partner? I was expecting a slew of questions. Possibly even another polygraph."

"He'll be around, by which time you will be sound asleep." She chuckles, eyes holding mine for a mere moment. "I had to cash in a lot of favors for this."

"Paperwork duty?"

"Among other things, more like personal things."

"Personal?" My eyebrow raises, eyelids becoming just a little heavier.

"Yeah, like doing the dishes and allowing him remote privileges. Things that come in handy more than paperwork."

"Oh good, for a minute I thought I had competition."

"What are they giving you Doctor Lewis?" She laughs, shaking her head at me. It's such a sweet sound.

"Quite a bit actually, perks of being a doctor. They are real generous with the doses." I laugh to myself, a dull surge of pain spreading through my chest. "Relax officer, it's just a joke. Hate to have a drug charge of some kind added to my pending murder charges." I smirk, earning the cutest inquisitive look from her. "Might sully my good name."

"Oh my God," She can't help but to roll her eyes as she shakes her head, laughing at my comment. "You are so drugged."

"I plead the fifth."

"Law major now?"

"Oh yeah, I have many hidden talents."

"Ooh, very sneaky."

"You have no idea, I'm like a ninja."

"Ninja? Wow." She tries not hold in her laughter. "If getting you a little drugged was all it took to get you to loosen up, I would have done it sooner."

"Careful Detective, I might misconstrued the excessive smiling and laughter as a sign of affection."

"There are quite a few signs of affection Lauren, generally you're just a little too busy foaming at the mouth to notice."

"Hm, that doesn't sound like me."

"Oh no?" Her brow rises, as she cautiously walks over to my bedside. "Must be some other gorgeous and brilliant blonde, doctor I know."

"Know many of us, do you?" I try to scowl, but by the way she smiles gently and brushes hair from my face I know I've failed.

"Sleep."

"I'm not ready to say goodbye."

"It's not goodbye," She lightly runs her thumb over my cheek before pulling her hand away. "It's goodnight."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

_**Monday**_

.

.

_**Outside—Lauren's Apartment Building—4:27 p.m.**_

"I really wish you'd stay in a hotel-or come spend the night with me."

"I don't think I'm up for the rigorous activity yet," I turn to face her, smirk on my lips. "You're pretty rowdy and I'd hate to rip a stich."

"Very nice Doctor, trying to lure me away from the matter at hand."

"Is it working?"

"Not quite, but points for effort."

"Points, hm?" I can't help how my eyebrow rises in curiosity. "Just for arguments sake, how many points?"

"How many?" She chuckles at me. "I don't know, um-two hundred."

"Really? That's it? I think the effort was at least worthy of-five."

"Greedy tiny thing you are."

"Very."

"Again, I repeat nice try." She smiles softly, reaching out and covering my hand with her own. "I'm serious. Just yesterday they declared this not a crime scene."

"It's my home Bo," I turn my hand within hers, fingers effortless intertwining. "Taylor is dead, it's over." I smile softly, idly running my thumb over the top of her hand. "I for once feel confident in saying that. I'm not in danger anymore, no one I care about is either. Now, this thing with Bryan, I'll just have to see how it plays out."

"This is a very new you."

"Yes, I really want to move on from this Bo."

"Oh." She nods, eyes moving down to our hands.

"I would like moving on from this to include us possibly spending time together, when not conspiring how to keep me out of jail."

"Really?" She looks up, smile transitioning into a smirk. "I wasn't aware we could have a conversation without conspiring."

"It might be hard, but I'm optimistic."

"Optimistic Lauren? How-unique." Another laugh fills the air, and I know it's that time for me to get out and head upstairs, but there's that awkward tension of, 'should we kiss goodbye or hug-or do nothing at all'.

"I'm experimenting."

"Ah, I see." This devilish smirk plays over her lips and I can't help but to laugh.

"Well I didn't do much in college so have to get it in somehow."

"I'll text you my address, just in case."

"Yeah, just in case." I smile, eyes dancing over her face as I lean in just a bit to see if she'll go for it.

"Call me cautious." Returning the smile, she mimics my actions, but refuses to close the distance.

"Okay." It wasn't the cleverest of responses, but I don't think she cares much as I close the distance.

Lips lightly covering hers, it's gentle and chaste.

Something somewhat innocent to mark the start of something new for us.

I pull away, and step out of the car without saying another word. She's giving me this adorably cute smile. This I'm not quite sure what's happening look and all I do to reassure her is smile, before closing her door and walking into the building, heading right to the elevator.

I can't lie, I'm still-something over Taylor. I'm still beyond worried about Evony, and the fact she still hasn't woken. I'm still far from okay, with a lot of bridges to mend with Andre and Karina, but just something since the other night has felt different. Similar to a weight off my chest.

There's nothing I can do about Jason Wallace, I know that. All I can do is hope that what goes around, really does come back around. I'll never forgive him, never forget it, but I think I've come to the realization that I'm not the type of person to sit around trying to figure out how I can kill him for it.

There's nothing I can do about what happened with Bryan, it happened and the chips will fall where they do. Whether we'll ever know who used him as a sick form of enjoyment, I don't know. All I know is it wasn't me, and the fact that I think Bo believes that is enough.

I look up at the ding, watching to doors separate.

Stepping out of the elevator I start toward my apartment, looking down in my bag searching for my phone. I can't believe I forgot to tell Andre to bring Chinese. I've had such a craving and when he asked me what I wanted, it completely slipped my mind.

"Looking for something?"

I look up at his voice, my once unwavering smile vanishing.

"Dyson." His name passing my lips, leaving a sick taste coating my mouth.


	11. One Step Forward, Two Steps Backward

_**Chapter Ten: One Step Forward, Two Steps Backward**_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

.

.

.

"Do you want something to drink?" I ask as politely as I can manage, pushing the door open. My first thought to slam it right back on him, but given I'm trying this whole new leaf deal-I refrain.

"No, I've had one." He pauses, and I nod not bothering to look back at him as I drop my bag on the floor next to the little stand. "Or a dozen, but who is counting?"

"Well if you plan on driving when you leave here," I pause, turning toward him. "The cop who pulls you over will be."

"I don't intend on getting pulled over tonight Lauren."

"I don't think anyone intends on being pulled over." I grin at him, nodding toward the couch as I start toward the kitchen. "Sit. I'll make you a cup of coffee."

"Friendly today?"

"Something new I'm trying." I'm unable to hold in a snort at my own words. I pull the coffee pot from the machines and hold it under the water just long enough to fill it for a single cup.

"Bo dropped you off."

"Yeah, Andre has work so he couldn't and well Karina and me haven't exactly made up yet."

"You two have grown pretty close lately, haven't you?"

"Um, somewhat." I stare at the machine, hands on the ledge of the counter while I remind myself to watch my tongue. Anything I say out of line could be used against her.

"They say she visited you several times during your short stay at the hospital."

"Well she is the investigating detective."

"We both know that isn't why she was there."

"What, are you going to report her?" I snap, looking over my shoulder, but he is just sitting on the couch staring at the blank screen of my television.

"No, we're too far passed that."

"Far too passed that? Glad to know that was on the table though." I can't help but to scoff at him.

"Well you know what they say, going for the jugular doesn't always need to include violence."

"Um, no." I chuckle, pulling a mug from the cabinet overhead. "I've never actually heard that one before."

"Something my father used to say."

"Scary man?" I fill the mug three fourths of the way.

"No more than Bryan Wright."

"Sounds lovely then."

"You have no idea." This time it's his cold chuckle that fills the apartment. "I never wanted anything the way I wanted to get out of my home."

"You've never said, I'm sorry." I pick up his coffee, a sense of softness for him creeping in. "I can't relate personally, but I had volunteered before at the Youth Center as an unofficial social worker."

"You sound just like one."

"A social worker?" I chuckle to myself, holding the mug out for him.

"Mm-hm, they always want to say how much they know how you feel. How they can relate to you in one bullshit way or another."

"I was just trying to-"

"Placate me."

"No, trying to be empathetic Dyson." I snap, eye moving from his to the mug waiting for him to take the coffee.

"Thank you." His tone flat as he finally takes it.

"So, how did you end up getting out? Scholarship?" I ask, tone matching his as I step back and take a seat in the chair off to his right.

"No, poker."

"Poker?"

"Yeah, I was seventeen when I discovered it. I was great, a legend. I know people say that but," he hesitates cutting himself off with a laugh. "I really was. I'd make a grand a week. I know doesn't sound like much, but I was playing in games in other kids' basements, never went down the illegal path."

"That's great."

"Don't pity me." He snaps.

"I'm not, I mean it. I may not know the situation, or the desperation to get out of it Dyson, but I do admire the drive you apparently had. To not only find a skill you had, but to use it to your advantage."

"I was God all through college. I cleaned up, money, looks, brains—I had it all."

"Sounds like now." I grin, eyes moving over his face.

Something isn't right.

Something is actually really far from being right.

My eyes shift from him, off toward the door where my bag lays.

"My story, it isn't anything special. I've seen hundreds of criminals sit at the table across from me with similar ones, ones far worse. My first case solo, this twenty year old, she was charged with murdering her pimp. Turns out she was from just a few blocks from where I grew up, a mother who didn't care and a father who liked to do some not nice things. So one night when he came to her room she fought back, and ran. Wrong friends, wrong people, ended up working the streets. Well, one night her pimp creeps in her room the way her father did, only this time she really did kill the guy."

"That's horrible."

"She said, what she did on the street was to survive. It was her choice to survive, but that didn't make her anyone's property. Said she wasn't a whore, wasn't doing it for the drugs, just to eat. We charged her with the max, no attempt to plea-bargain. The D.A.'s office want to make a point."

"We all have things we aren't proud of, some more than others." I smile softly, eyes meeting his as I start to stand.

"Sit down."

"I just want to get my phone."

"Sit. Down. Now." His tone firm, jaw tightening.

"Okay." I nod, siting back down, but making sure to stay on the edge of the seat.

"I'm trying to make you understand something here."

"Okay."

"I had been clean for years Lauren, I had. I went to meetings, I hadn't gambled in years, but one-I slipped."

"Dyson it's okay, everyone makes mistakes."

"Don't! I know you're only saying what you think I need to hear. Just listen to me. I need to say this."

"Alright Dyson, alright." I nod, my chest growing heavy.

"I don't remember the night, it was a blur. One minute I'm good, and the next I'm waking up with a hundred and fifty grand debt on my hands. I could never make that up. I stupidly tried to play again, win it back. Bookie after bookie, and-got myself in for two hundred when it was all said and done. I don't have that kind of money."

"Evony was right." I sigh, tears coming to my eyes and I can't tell if they're tears of anger or pain. The undeniable proof this man in front of me, someone I trusted so deeply betrayed me in the deepest way possible.

"She tried to throw the case Lauren, the more I gave her the less she used. Fact after fact she overlooked. I thought about reporting her, but then I'd have to say what I was doing."

"Why?"

"Come on Lauren, you're not stupid." He sighs, leaning forward and placing the mug on the coffee table.

"How much did he pay you?" I feel a tear slip down my cheek.

"Three hundred grand, enough to pay off what I owed with interest. He laughed at me, called me stupid and cheap." He snorts a chuckle. "It was supposed to be it."

"You think any deal you make with the devil will ever fair?" It's my turn to chuckle.

"I got these messages, blocked numbers, but who else would it be." He shakes his head, an icy laugh following. "I was the one who took Bryan's body. Dropped him at some warehouse. That was supposed to be it. Then I was supposed to have you take the fall-which proved more difficult than expected."

"Sorry about that."

"I didn't mean for Evony to get hurt."

"That was-that's how you weren't on the cameras. You knew where they were." I can't help as several more tears slip down my cheeks, this unexpected pain shooting through my chest.

"It was too late when I saw it wasn't you, I tried to knock her out and get away before she saw me."

"Oh yeah, real hero."

"She fought me! She wouldn't let it go, just kept coming and coming and she saw it was me. What was I supposed to do?! What Lauren?!"

"How about the right thing?!" My voice raises to meet his, his features twisting in anger as his own tears begin to spill.

"She just kept fighting and then I lost it-I thought she was dead. I didn't mean to leave her in pain like that."

"I repeat, real hero."

"I didn't want this Lauren, none of it."

"Yeah, well neither did I."

"You should have killed him," He looks over at me, teary eyes meeting my own. He reaches around his back pulling out a small revolver. "All three of them. Not a single one of them is worth the air they breathe."

"You say that yet you're running errands for the worst of them."

"I'm weak, always have been." He laughs, shaking his head. "I gave what I had left to that Youth Center your family runs."

"I'm pretty sure Andre would prefer me alive instead."

"Oh Lauren," He laughs at me placing his elbow just above his knee, hand gripping the gun tightly. "You still don't get it. I didn't come here to kill you, I came here to confess."

I listen to him, words seemingly repeating themselves to me.

His words that first registered peculiar to me, _'We're far too passed that'_.

"I'm sorry."

"Dyson—"

Our voices overlap, the sound of the gun causing me to flinch-but my eyes stay open.

God, I long for a time when the sound of a gunshot scared me enough to close my eyes. To look away—to run away.

I watch him fall to the right hitting the arm of the couch before falling to the floor, just two inches from my feet.

I see the blood splatter on my hands, the faint feel of it on my face.

I slide down onto my knees, pulling the gun from his hand and sliding it across the floor.

Tears slipping down cheeks freely and I instinctively feel for a pulse.

"Oh God." My voice breaks, trembling hands pushing him onto his back.

I jump up, running to my bag for my phone.

_**(9-1-1. Please state your emergency.)**_

"I—I'm a doctor at Saint Mark's hospital. I have a GSW to the head, small caliber. I still have a pulse, very weak and fading. I'm at-"

I'm cut off by the sound of his groaning.

The sound something I've heard so many times working in the emergency room, but this time for some reason it's different.

I walk back toward him, tossing the phone onto the couch.

They already have my address the second I called, he needs my attention.

Dropping to my knees I feel his pules again-it's near nonexistent.

He won't make it.

"It's okay." I lie, trembling hand covering his blood soaked cheek. "Dyson, it's okay. They're coming." His eyes are open forming little slits, but it's enough to see a fear that he can no longer articulate. "It's all okay." He's fading. His arm twitching-or maybe he's reaching for me. "I'm here." I grab his hand, squeezing tightly. "I forgive you. I forgive you." I nod, tears freely falling onto his chest as I watch his eyes close and the groaning come to a shush.

I don't know if I mean it.

Maybe I just want to mean it.

Or maybe I just couldn't watch another person die in front of me, alone and in pain.

"I forgive you." I repeat in a broken sob.

"Lauren!"

My attention snapping to the door as it flies open, Andre bursting in. He looks sweaty and sounds out of breath-I don't see food though.

Huh.

"Lauren?" He asks calmer, softer. Well it's as soft as he can manage while panting. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"No." I whispers, looking back down to Dyson.

"Lauren?"

"No, I'm fine." I repeat myself louder. "How'd you know?"

"I was coming up the stairs and heard the shot." He walks closer, coming to a stop just before Dyson's feet. "What the fuck happened?"

"He-he shot himself."

"Lauren." He says my name, not even bothering to try and hide the skepticism.

"Really." I snort. "He confessed to throwing the case, too taking Bryan's body and—and then he just-"

"Did you call the police?"

"The ambulance yes." I nod, finally looking back up to him.

"Did you touch the gun?"

"Yeah, I took it from his hand."

"Lauren, why would you do that?" He snaps.

"Because it's an instinct now. I can't remember the last time someone wasn't trying to kill me, so excuse me for being a little over protective."

"Exactly why you wouldn't touch the damn gun! This is three bodies now. Shit!" He runs his hands over his face, turning away from me.

"There is no way this can be pinned on me." I snap right back, but something in the back of my mind begins to actually think about what he's saying.

Think about what the situation is at hand.

This IS the third dead body I've found myself tied to, the second caught red handed with. Even though he confessed to me what happens if he didn't leave any other proof? Even if he did, this could look like I killed him in revenge for it.

I look up at Andre to find him staring down at me, this look that I can't quite describe.

I take a deep breath, and fall back onto my butt to wait for the now pointless medics and undoubtedly the police who would be close behind.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**21**__**st**__** Precinct—10:13 p.m.**_

"Hey." I smile softly, looking over at Bo as she takes a seat beside me on this peculiar bench along the outer wall of the first interrogation room.

"Hey."

"Long shift?" I ask pointlessly, it's a stupid question, but all I have at the moment.

"Something like that."

"Well, plus side of my never ending trouble is it keeps your shifts busy."

"Yeah." She chuckles, still refusing to look at me. "Well, it did."

"Did?" My brow furrows.

"Yeah. As of ten minutes ago, I've been suspended."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, there is so, so, so many reasons."

"Is it permanent?"

"No, at least I don't think so-unless they find proof of one of any of my many indiscretions."

"I just-I don't understand how they can do this? You weren't anywhere near when this happened."

"They know I've been personally visiting you at the hospital, and that I drove you home. They know that I impeded the investigation by preventing Hale from talking to you right after the attack. They know I took your bag from Evony's apartment and they know I visited you there."

"Wh-did Hale-"

"No, don't go there." She sort of snaps, and I can't help but to feel a little hurt. "He's been written up along with me, the only reason he isn't suspended is because he didn't touch your bag, well that's what they think."

"He knew?"

"He was the one who grabbed it for me. There was no way I could do it without being noticed. I hadn't mentioned it, but people had taken notice to me for a little while now."

"Oh." My eyes fall down to my feet, a wave of guilt washing over me. Dammit, why was he so hard to hate.

"Yeah."

"Did you want to get a drink?" I ask after several minutes of awkward silence, this being the first logical thing to pop into my head.

"I-I don't know Lauren, I think I'm just gonna go home."

"Come on, it's the least I can do."

"I just-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer." I force another smile, my first urge to reach out and touch her back reassuringly, but I remember where we are.

"Yeah, alright."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Seventh Symphony—11:47 p.m.**_

"You're disgusting." Bo says making this adorably disgusted, yet amused face as she shakes her head.

"So judgmental." Vex laughs, filling up her shot glass. "You two are perfect for each other." His laughter continuing as he pours me another shot.

"Hey! I take offense to that." My laughter mixing with his, the sound only growing as Bo glares at us.

"Do you take offense to the first or the second part?"

"Um, the first." I try not to laugh. "Definitely the second-I mean first."

"Hey!" She playfully nudges my foot with her own.

"She meant the second one." Vex chirps in, taking a drink from the bottle. "Oh! I forgot, some Taylor Swift clone came looking for you."

"You really like them young, huh?" Bo teases, chuckling to herself. She's about four shots passed me and three behind Vex.

"She wanted me to give you," He trails off, turning his back to us as he looks over the counters. "Here."

Turning around he hands me this small envelope that is so familiar. It had been days, I actually forgot all about these little notes.

.

'_Dearest Doctor, _

_For someone who is supposed to save lives,_

_You sure seem to be doing quite the opposite._

_Wonder who will be your next victim.'_

.

"What is that?"

"What?" I jump at the sound of Bo's voice, quickly going to shove the note into my pocket.

"What is that?" She demands, smile missing from her lips as she rips the note from my hand.

"What's going on?" Vex asks, suddenly the playful and slight slur to everyone's voice missing. The relaxed and calm demeanor long gone.

"It's nothing." I slide off the stool, reaching to grab the note just as she turns her back to me preventing my maneuver.

"Seriously," She chuckles coldly, turning around to face me. "After everything-you're still lying." Shaking her head, she slams the note down on the bar top before making a beeline for the exit.

I glance over at Vex who already has it in hand, eyes moving along the paper before shifting to mine. This disapproving and somewhat hurt look written over his features.

Shit.

One step forward-two steps backward.


	12. Tangled

**Chapter Eleven: Tangled**

**(Lauren's POV)**

.

.

.

**Saturday**

.

.

_**Xavier's Arms—12:17 a.m. **_

"Just listen to me."

"I don't want to listen to you."

"If you didn't want to listen then you wouldn't be here."

"I was your ride."

"If that was it then you would have stayed in the car."

"I," She turns around to face me, breath held as she searches for a reply. "I realize that now, thank you."

"Bo just let me-"

"Do you know how many time I've heard that line from you?" her eyebrow raises, jaw tightening. "I feel like we just run in a circle."

"I'm trying." My eyes wander over to the red couch she's now leaning against.

"Yeah, well your trying is shit."

"I'm aware, thank you." I smirk, one that starts to fade until I see the corner of her mouth curve. "I didn't mention it before because-because it would look bad against me. I didn't mention it because I didn't fully trust you. I didn't mention it now, simply because it's been crazy and I hadn't thought about them."

"Them?"

"Yes, them—there is several." I sigh, running my hand through my hair. I can't believe I'm already back in trouble with her. "I see you didn't go through my bag."

"No."

"Thank you for that."

"Yeah." She nods.

"They are as stupid as this one-it's all just so stupid."

"How many are there?"

"I don't know, three-four." I shake my head, trying to remember the exact number. "The night-the night we were together I freaked out. I freaked out and my plan was to sleep on the couch until you woke, or just stay awake and write or something. I never wanted to leave you there, but I saw-there was the first letter there."

"You didn't think I deserved to know that?"

"No-yes-maybe. I don't know Bo, I made a lot of bad decisions and I know that. This is just another one on the list."

"You know, I don't understand how I can know you for such a short time, yet you keep finding new ways to hurt me."

"Don't—" I take a step toward her, but she holds her hand up stopping me. "Bo."

"I keep trying and trying and trying for you."

"I know."

"I just don't know if it's worth it anymore."

"W-what?" I take a step back, those words being something I've expected a million times over, yet it takes my breath away just the same.

"Lauren I'm suspended, I don't know if I'm ever gonna get my job back. I'm an accessory to so many crimes I've lost count. I've been hurt by you in ways I wasn't even aware I could be, but you know what?"

"What?"

"It was worth it. I look at you and I can't say anything different. I look at you now and see how much you've changed just within the past few days and I still think it's worth it. The problem is, that even with all of this-there's still lies."

"There isn't." My pitch rises just a little without intention, she doesn't seem to notice-care.

"You say that, but history proves-I can't trust your word." She gives me this shrug, head tilted to the right as she keeps her eyes on the floor. "Besides it's not just about the lying. It's not just about the lack of trust, that I honestly don't know what else I could do to earn it. It's also about the fact that after everything, I still get the same bullshit lines I got when you hardly knew my name."

"I'm just not very linguistic." I smile softly, the feeling of tears quickly sneaking up on me.

"You're a human dictionary."

"Knowing the words, and knowing how to put them together is different."

"You're a doctor."

"Dammit Bo, you know what I mean."

"No," She shakes head, this heartbroken look written over her features. "I realized tonight that I can't take that liberty with you anymore. Every word, or sentience-I can't assume to know anymore Lauren, because every time I do—I'm wrong."

"Bo—" I sigh, reaching for her hand as she walks passed me.

"I need to go."

"Don't do this." It's more of a plea than a demand, but regardless I still find myself watching her back as she disappears behind the door. "Shit."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Saint Mark's Hospital—5:14 p.m.**_

"Um," I stop dead I my tracks, heart beginning to pound. I look around pointlessly, as if something would change. As if I wasn't aware where I had just walked into. "Lachlan?" His name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, something I guess he shares as the smile once on is face as he flirts with a nurse vanishes.

"What are you doing here?"

"I think that should be my line." I start walking toward him again, eyes shifting from him to the nurse who is a little slow to realize her welcome is gone.

"I came to visit Evony."

"I'm sorry, you're not seeming to understand by the overwhelming amount of tension and sudden lack of attention being paid to you, that your welcome is over." I stare at the woman, who stares back at me dumbfounded-for a minute.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?"

"Why the fuck are you here?" I snap under my breath, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into Evony's room.

"I told you."

"You're supposed to be in—"

"Jesus Lauren, it's rehab not fucking Alcatraz."

"So you can just leave-when you want?"

"Pretty much." He nods, giving me this smirk I want to slap off of his face.

"How long have you been sneaking out?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It does to me!"

"Quiet." He snaps, pushing the door closed. "Family squabbles at work aren't the best look."

"Oh yeah, cause up until this moment I have a stellar opinion with the public."

"Tell me, how is Andre?"

"Fine, how is Karina?"

"You know the problem with you Lauren," He leans down, jaw clenched getting closer to me than needed, but I don't back away. "You were always too damn nosy for your own good." He leans back up straight, this chill to his voice, in his eyes that reminds me so much of Jason Wallace.

He doesn't say anything else, just stares me down for another moment making me feel like a child. Then he simply walks out, shutting the door behind himself leaving me almost as dumbfounded as the nurse I snapped at.

"Well that was rather anti-climatic." I jump at the weak voice, attention snapping over to the hospital bed. "Whatever happened to the Lewis family fights that required me and Andre to break up?"

"You're awake." I can't help but to smile, tears filling my eyes as I move to the side of the bed.

"Oh don't go getting all emotional on me." She smiles up at me.

"I should go get a nurse." I say after a second or two just staring at her, this smile on my face slowly dwindling.

"They know I'm awake Lauren, already spoke to Hale."

"They didn't call me." I say more to myself rather than her.

"I asked them not to."

"Why?" She doesn't say anything, just forces a polite smile and looks away. "I'm asking you a question."

"My ears work just fine."

"Then why would you purposely ask them not to call me?"

"I don't know Lauren. Maybe because you're a little preoccupied with supercop. Maybe because you just got out of here yourself and I didn't want you to have to come right back. Maybe because I'm embarrassed to let you see me this weak. Maybe-maybe there is a lot of reasons."

"Well so far they're all stupid."

"Excuse me?" She snaps, looking back toward me.

"They're all stupid reasons." I repeat, softer this time.

Evony is who she is. I knew that when we became 'friends' and when we became more. I've known it through every up and down, breakup and make up. There's no changing her, and honestly I don't want to. I've spent all this time complaining about how no one would let me be, would accept who I was—whoever that maybe. I can't very well judge her for who she is.

I move the guarding rail down, and take a seat on the little bit of bed exposed, eventually she moves over taking the hint that I'm not moving.

It's a tangled web I've woven.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Saint Mark's Hospital Parking Lot—8:02 p.m.**_

Pulling the car door open I look over my shoulder once more into the dimly lit, optimal cover area. My hear beginning to speed back up.

There's someone-I'm sure of it….

….Or paranoia has finally gotten the better of me.

My eyes move back up to the hospital, fixing in a on a particular darkened window that I'm ninety percent sure is Evony's.

I give one last glance around the parking lot before sliding into my seat, pulling the door shut and locking it. I don't know why, if I really was in danger it's be prove my window can be easily smashed and me pulled out so-pointless effort.

I glance down at the outline of my phone from within the pocket of my jeans.

I could call Bo.

I shouldn't though.

Shaking the thought I make my way through the parking lot, and several streets until I feel that nagging, sickening feeling again.

There's just enough traffic on the street, beaming headlights to keep me from being able to tell definitively if I'm being followed.

Though honestly, I'm a doctor and a horrible criminal. If I was being followed, not sure I could tell.

I make several detour left turns and then several right turns, but unlike the few times before, unlike when I felt it at the hospital-it's not going away.

I turn down into an alley, bringing the car to a halt at the three-fourths mark.

I stare at the clock, and then up to the rearview mirror.

Again.

Again.

Again.

There's nothing.

At this rate temporary insanity might actually be a fitting defense if I end up on trail.

I can't help but to laugh aloud to myself, Evony would love that.

I glance up at the mirror once last time, more as a reflex than anything. This time though my heart feels like it stops for a single second before trying to pound through my chest.

For a minute the car just stalls at the mouth of the alley, high-beams on, blinding me.

All I can this is of the advice they say if you ever find yourself staring down a bear-don't run-no sudden movements.

Problem is my metaphorical bear is a very fast car that didn't need to wait for sudden movements to charge.

My foot moving to the gas on reflex, so fast the tires peal.

Horns blearing as I find myself shooting out into the street before I even grasp what I am doing. The oncoming car just nearly missing my rear.

I find myself speeding down three more alleys before turning onto a street.

I find myself holding my breath, eyes moving from the street to the rearview mirror and back. I don't see anyone at first, just long enough to breathe again.

Coming up on the hotel I find myself starting to slow-but I don't stop.

I just keep going, why I'm not exactly sure.

It must be an hour I'm driving around the city. Turns and curves and seemingly hundreds of stoplights. It feels like days and at the same time seconds. My mind wandering off somewhere as I slipped into autopilot.

It's not until I'm stalled at another stoplight staring up at the red florescent, eyes shifting over to the street sign that I find myself drifting out of autopilot.

All I would have to do is flick my turn signal on, turn the wheel to the right. I'm not far from his condo now. Just fifteen minutes give or take.

It could all be over, one way or another…

…..Or I could drive up another four streets and take a left.

The sound of a blaring horn behind me, joined by another shakes me from my thoughts, eyes moving back to the light that's now green.

Such a simple decision with such a different outcome.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Bo's Apartment-9:21 a.m.**_

"Look what the cat dragged in." Kenzi snorts, pushing the door open further as she steps aside. "You look like shit."

"I wasn't aware we knew each other well enough to make jokes of an abrasive nature."

"Who says I'm joking?"

"It's called passive aggressive." I look over my shoulder and force a smile as I walk into the apartment.

"I've heard of that," She chuckles, the sound of the door closing being drowned out. "I'm just aggressive." She shoots me this 'Fuck You' smile as she walks passed me toward the couch.

"I guess I'll just stand here."

"Please don't." She snaps, plopping down on the couch. "Bo's room is over there." She points off toward a wall, I assume she means the doorway to the stairs several feet away.

Suddenly this doesn't seem like such a great idea.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Bo's Room- 11:04 p.m.**_

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Bo whispers, looking down at me with her hand in the drawer of her nightstand.

"W—what?" I ask through a yawn.

"Nothing, go back to sleep." A soft smile as she shakes her head, pushing the drawer shut while she turns her back to me.

"Where are you going?"

"Downstairs, I'm tired."

"Bo, this is your room."

"Lauren, just go back to sleep, you look like shit."

"Gee, thanks." I smile, pushing myself up into an upright position. "What does it mean when two people tell you that in a row?"

"That you need rest."

"I need to talk to you."

"We talked."

"Someone was following me tonight when I left the hospital, in the hospital too actually."

"What? Who?"

"I don't know, but it's probably Jason Wallace."

"I'll make a call to Hale—"

"Bo," I reach out, grabbing her hand. "I'm telling you because I'm being honest, not for you to rush off and be the hero."

"If I wasn't worried you'd make another reckless decision, I wouldn't have to."

"That's fair, I deserved that." I nod, tugging her hand slightly bringing her closer to the bed. "I won't lie, I thought about it. About going to his condo and letting the chips fall where they do, but—"

"But what?" She sort of snaps, pulling her hand back.

"I came here instead."

"Why are you so frustrating?" She lets out after a good thirty seconds of scowling at me.

"Because you would get bored if I was easy." Her eyebrow shoots up and I can't help but to smirk. "I walked into that one."

"Little bit."

"Well at least it got you to smile."

"I'm not smiling."

"Smirking then."

"I'm not smirking." She shakes her head slightly.

"No?" I slide off the bed, yawning slightly. "Then what is this thing called that you're doing with your lips?" I can't help but to smile softly, eyes moving from her lips to meet her gaze.

"It's a….."

"I'm listening." Smiling growing, eyes drifting back down to her lips.

"It's a less aggressive frown."

"You," I shake my head at her, leaning in. "Are so stubborn."

Her lips part, but I don't give her a chance to speak. I don't want to talk anymore, and I sure as hell don't want to fight. What I do want is to feel her arms around me. Feel her lips on mine. Hear the soft whimper she makes when we kiss. Feel her arms around my neck.

I want to feel safe.


	13. Mazes

_**Chapter Twelve: Mazes**_

**(Lauren's POV)**

.

.

**Sunday**

.

.

.

_**Bo's Room-2:36 a.m.**_

"Is it morning?" I ask in an unintentional whisper, eyes opening to darkness.

It must be night considered I'm greeted by darkness, all except for the dim, off white light flowing in from the streetlight and forgotten curtains. I lift my head, looking toward the door, but there's no light seeping in from underneath like before. I tilt my head a little more trying to see the clock on Bo's side of the bed, but it's turned too far away.

A soft moan pulls my attention down to the naked woman who's thrown herself over me, not that I'm complaining. She looks so peaceful, and happy even.

I wonder what it would be like to wake up next to her like this every morning.

With Evony at first it was similar, I can't lie. She couldn't hide emotion while unconscious, she always seemed happy to be in my arms, but somewhere along the way that changed.

Maybe it just always changes.

Maybe it's one of those things like how the person can barely annoy you for the first year of knowing them, it's not till later they start to drive you insane.

Maybe it was simply because I never had any intention of giving her my heart that did it, though I was ready to stay with her.

I shake the thought off, looking back down at Bo to find my hand idly stroking her hair. It's something I hadn't even realized I was doing, but now that I do I can't believe how natural it feels.

After several minutes, my body beginning to fully wake I slowly and carefully slip from her embrace. I slip on my shirt and then pants all the while praying she doesn't wake up. It's not that I'm running away, in fact quite the opposite, but I know the second she opens her eyes and sees me dressed that's right where her mind would go.

I feel my pocket for my phone needing the light of the screen, I wasn't about to turn on lights in my quest for the bathroom, but I also wasn't about to stumble around aimlessly.

Pressing the power button, light proving too much for my apparently still sensitive eyes.

First I notice the time, then the notification for my 'Sixteen Unread Messages'.

.

_**Dre:**__ Hey. Checking in to see how you're feeling. __**(12:02 a.m)**_

_**Dre:**__ HEY! Are you still alive?! __**(12:26 a.m.)**_

_**Dre:**__ Okay. Okay. Given recent circumstances bad joke, my bad. __**(12:26 a.m.)**_

_**Dre:**__ No really are you still alive? __**(12:42 a.m.)**_

_**Dre**__: Ohhhhh, you're getting booty from that fine female cop right? __**(12:49 a.m.)**_

_**Dre:**__ Am I right? __**(1:00 a.m.)**_

_**Dre:**__ Hellloooooooo? __**(1:09 a.m.)**_

_**Dre:**__ That's it, I'm done. __**(1:14 a.m.)**_

_**Dre:**__ Who am I kidding? I can't quit you! __**(1:15 a.m.)**_

_**Dre:**__ LOL alright I'm done. Hit me up asap. __**(1:34 a.m.)**_

.

I can't help but to laugh aloud, shaking my head at him and then myself.

Realizing Bo is still sleeping, I glance over and make sure I haven't disturbed her.

I'm safe.

I flick back to the next set of messages, my lingering laughter silenced and smile vanishing.

The next six messages from an unknown number, all of which are picture messages. One after another of me and Bo. Not separately, not out in the public, not from days ago. Pictures of just hours ago. Pictures from this room. Pictures of us kissing, of us doing things far more passionate than.

I walk over to the window, eyes scaling the rooftops across the street, only two which would be logical, but there's no one there now.

It's misting now, the window slightly fogged.

I led them-him here.

My eyes fall to the street. My car, Bo's car, Hale's car. Several others I don't recognize, but there's one parked in front of mine. One that the harder I look, the more I'm convinced someone is inside. The more I look the more familiar it gets to me.

It's Jason's car. I know it. I would bet my life on it.

"What are you doing?" Bo voice soft and sleep laced.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Aye-aye, bossy pants." She laughs, and I glance over my shoulder just in time to see her give me a horrible imitation of a salute.

"I have to go." I lie-only it's not really a lie. Quickly I walk over to the bed and place a firm, closed lipped kiss to lips. Her arms going to wrap around my neck, but I pull away before she can.

"Where are you going?" She still to asleep to sound upset, to even seem it.

"I have to go to the hospital." Another lie.

"I didn't know they still had you on call."

"That's about all they have me on now." I force a little laugh, lies wrapped in truth. It's enough she doesn't question, she just smiles up at me and nods, pulling 'my' pillow close to her, burying her face In it. A soft little sigh escaping from her, I don't even think she notices.

I wait for a second as I slip into my shoes, but she's already out.

I want to think about what I'm doing, but I don't.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Wallace Commons-4:06 a.m.**_

I draw in a deep breath, walking into the lobby. My eyes shifting from one security guard to the next both sitting at the desk. Their eyes finding me instantly, and I just wait for them to say something as near them, hell maybe even attack me, but nothing.

I know they know who I am.

Everyone in this city knows who I am, so surely the guards in the Wallace owned building knows who I am.

"He's expecting you." One of the two says, just as I come within five feet of the main desk.

"Of course he is." I mumble under my breath, walking passed the desk and into the arching hall to the four elevators.

God, his buildings were just as gaudy as him.

It's disgusting.

The far right elevator on the right opens, and I take a single step in, but then I find my legs locking.

What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

What am I doing here?

Despite the lack of a rational and logical answer, or answer at all I step into the elevator. Pressing the 'P' for penthouse, passing thirty-six floors.

I keep asking myself the question, but I never get an answer.

I keep asking myself what I plan to do, but I never get an answer.

The doors open, and all I can think is there is no turning back.

I step out and feel the air leave my lungs, but there is no turning back.

"Well don't just stand there." He says, eye meeting mine as he brings his glass to his lips. "Don't pretend to be scared Doctor Lewis, we both know better." He takes another drink, leaning further back into his love seat.

"I—I came t—to-"

"I-I-I." He laughs coldly. "Come now, we've come too far for you to back down now."

"Leave me alone."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I being a little too mean, should we build into it?" Another laugh, muffled by another drink.

"No. I mean leave me alone. You've won. You got everything you could have wanted from me. Just end it."

"End it?" A snort. "You're the one here Lauren. I gave up a while ago."

"I'm serious." I snap, taking a single step forward. "You've gotten away with it-all of it. Bryan and Taylor are dead, and you're free. My life-it's in shambles. You don't need to keep this up. What more joy could you possibly get from my misery now?"

"Well Lauren, there is plenty to still be enjoyed."

"If you want me dead then just do it." I take three more steps toward him, his eyes running over me curiously. "Just end it, because I'm refusing to play anymore."

"Getting a little over dramatic here."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm listening, I'm hearing, but I'm just not seeing your point here."

"My point is you've had your fun. You've destroyed me and got away with everything, having your lose ends tied up in the process. It's over, lets just walk away."

"Lauren, you're not hearing me." He takes one last drink, finishing off the honey colored liquid. Leaning forward, he places the glass on his leg holding it by the rim. "I grew bored of you ages ago. The second I saw who you really were. Though honestly, the brutalization of Bryan was an interest twist. Didn't see it coming."

"Don't!" My voice raising as I lose my temper for a mere second. "Don't put that on me."

"Oh-okay." He winks and gives me a little nod. "We're still pretending that wasn't you."

"It wasn't and you know that."

"I do? How exactly would I know what you did or didn't do?"

"Because you were the one that did that to him."

"Me?" He laughs, leaning further forward and putting his glass on the table. "How exactly would I know how do that to him?"

"You went to medical school." I say, hesitation in my voice as I stare into his eye. They're the eyes of a cold blooded killer, but not of a liar-it's why Evony refused to put him on the stand, he would undoubtedly take responsibility for his actions.

"No." He shakes his head, laughing once more. "I never went to med-school Lauren."

"I—it doesn't matter. You have money to pay anyone, any fee."

"Please. I killed that woman and your father myself. I came up with the idea for the bank myself. I bribed that cheap whore of a A.D.A. myself. I don't pay anyone to do my own work. Ripping that inbred trash apart would have been fun, but I simply don't have the skill."

"I don't believe you." But I do.

"I don't give a flying fuck what you believe Doctor Lewis."

I just stare at him, upon reaching a stalemate I find myself stumped.

I thought I would be scared, but I'm not. I thought I would be in a rage, but I'm not. I'm too exhausted. I'm too tired to fight. I stand here and I find myself believing him, and while part of me says I've finally lost my last shred of sanity, there is another part that says he has no reason to lie at this point.

I know he has no reason because I no longer have a reason to lie.

We are complete opposites yet somehow still cut from the same cloth.

That, perhaps being the single most frightening thought I've even had.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_**Outside-4:36 a.m.**_

"Shit." I say to myself, walking out to find Bo pulling up along side the curb. The passenger side window opening as I lean down to see the expression on her face to be one far from pleased.

"Get. In. Now." She orders through a clenched jaw.

"My car is here-"

"Don't make me ask you again."

"Ask?" I mumble to myself, but none the less following her order. The door barely shut as she speeds off, and I can't bring myself to look at her.

"Give it to me." Another order, her right hand extending to me with her palm up. "Now."

"I'm sorry." I lean forward pulling her gun from the back of my waistband.

"Is he—did you finish it?"

"Wh—what?" I look over at her, but she just puts her service weapon in her lap. "I just took it in case-"

"In case there was a reason to use it in self-defense?" She snorts.

"Something funny?"

"Just seems like you have a lot of instances where you need to invoke self-defense."

"Would you prefer I let them kill me?"

"No, I'd prefer you stopped putting yourself in situations in which give you the opportunity to—"

"Invoke self-defense?" I finish for her.

"If you didn't kill him then what did you do?"

"We had tea and crumpets, caught up on the old times. It was fun." This time it's my jaw that stays tight as I speak. She still doesn't glance over, doesn't even smirk. "He told me it wasn't him."

"What wasn't?"

"Any of it."

"Any of it?"

"He said it wasn't him, he didn't have anything to do with Bryan."

"And you believe that?"

"Yes, I do actually." This gets her to glance over at me, a look that questions my sanity.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I really do. He also told me that the notes aren't his, well at least the last two."

"Just the last two?" She snorts.

"Yes, Bo why do you keep asking me what I just told you?" My brow furrows, eyes fixed on her face. "I know it sounds crazy, but I believe him when he says he doesn't know what happen to Bryan. I believe him when he says that he didn't send these last two letters."

"Why? Why trust him?"

"I don't trust him, I just believe him-on this."

"Lauren, Jesus Christ." She snaps just as we pull up outside of her building, the lack of traffic doing wonders for our commute time. "Bryan is dead. Taylor is dead. Dyson-is dead. Everyone who could have possibly had anything to do with this besides him-"

"Is dead?"

"Yeah. Jason Wallace is the only person who could have done this."

"You don't know that."

"Dyson confessed to you, Taylor didn't kill his own brother, and Bryan didn't chop himself up nor send you letters from beyond the grave."

"Bo," I pause, taking a chance and placing my hand over hers that rests atop her leg. "I understand that this is absolutely crazy. I understand that, and I understand you want this over-I want this over, but there is something not adding up."

"Exactly, we're taught not to believe in coincidences. Lauren, what are the chances that someone just happens to send you malicious letters right when Jason stops? What are the chances that someone else blackmails Dyson and kills Bryan?"

"It's-" I cut myself off, mind beginning to run a million different scenarios. "It's not a coincidence. It's someone piggybacking."

"Excuse me?" She chuckles.

"It's someone using these events to hide." I say my thoughts aloud as their being formed. "That's why none of it's made sense, because the lines aren't connected how they're supposed to be."

"What?"

"Think like one of those mazes in children's books. If this was done the way that we were thinking it would be like following the correct path to get out. This case though, it's like someone is using whiteout a certain spots to get them to the exit."

"But only certain spots, cause otherwise it would be too obvious there is another player."

"Exactly." I smile softly, squeezing her hand.

"This person though-I mean—I can't think of anyone."

"I know, that's the screwed up beauty of it. Seemingly everyone who would have a reason is dead." I pause, smile fading as I realize she just staring at me in an intimidating way. She's still mad. "Whoever this is, is smart."

"Knows the law system as well."

"Good point." I nod, pulling my hand back as I realize she still hasn't responded. "They would also have to know personal details of the case, of what's happened, of-"

"Us. All of us I mean."

"Along with a personal investment. Someone who could sneak around, and no one would question them." My words begin to trail as my eyes narrow in on her, she's just staring at me, this miniscule smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Or am I seeing things?

Connecting dots where there are none?

"What?" Her eyebrow raises.

"Why did you decide to testify?"

"What?" She laughs, then falls silent. "Because I was made to."

"No, Dyson asked you and you refused."

"I didn't say he was the one that made me. What is this?"

"Nothing." I shake my head, leaning back in my seat.

"You have something to say Lauren, say it."

"Why did you follow me?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Towards the end of the trial, I kept seeing you. I hadn't seen you once in years then-you were everywhere."

"Yeah, it was the end of the trial."

"But why me?"

"Because I-because I found you attractive. Because I felt bad for you. Because I-found myself drawn to you. Because I felt-"

"Felt what?" I look back up to her, this deer caught in headlights look on her face.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"Drop it."

"No. Tell me, you felt what?"

"In a way-it's stupid and insane, but I felt responsible for you." She swallows hard, looking down at the gun in her lap. "Your father said to keep you here, what it really meant was keep you safe. It's insane, but I just-I felt responsible for you in a way. I saw you, and I just I wanted to protect you. That's why. I wanted to make sure you were okay, falling for you was never part of the plan."

"Yeah." I say under my breath and nod.

A billion and one thoughts running through my mind.

A million and one connections being made.

A thousand and one words in our short time knowing each other being replayed.

A hundred and one facial expressions and reactions being remembered.

A dozen and one red flags popping up with each passing second.

A single sharp pain ripping through my chest as I find myself crashing into a conclusion that frightens me to my core.


	14. Collision

_**Chapter Thirteen: Collision**_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

.

.

.

_**Lewis' Household—7:21 a.m.**_

We are only as sick as our secrets,

I heard that somewhere once, maybe in school. It was an interesting statement at the time, then again at the time I heard it I had the perfect family. A loving father and uncle, sure I missed my mother, but I was never one of those kids who turned bitter for not having a mother around. I never had that massive void everyone else seems to have. It's not that I didn't miss her, not that I didn't care—I just didn't have that void within me.

I had two brothers and a sister—though the sister part was slightly complicated for a while. I still had a good family, a solid foundation.

I was a happy child, a happy teen, even a happy young woman.

I thought I knew who I was, who I would be.

This is not it.

I lean against my seat, the car door open as I stare at the house I grew up in. So many memories, so many happy memories.

I remember every day rushing home, and every day would be similar. Always happy, always a memory, always safe.

I think that's why I find myself here now, I want so desperately to feel safe.

I felt safe with Bo-until this morning.

The longer I stare at this house though, the more I realize that it's not the house itself that makes me feel safe, but the people that were inside. Two brothers who would never let anything touch me, two fathers really that would never let anything touch me, and well whatever category Karina fit, she would never let anything touch me.

I want those back so desperately.

I want my family back so desperately.

I want to be able to play God and change these past few years.

I want so much.

I step from the car, taking a look around my foggy surroundings searching for something, but there's nothing. No person hidden in the shadows. No car parked up or down the street following me. No boogyman lurking around any corners.

The shame about real life is that boogymen are actually just real men-or women. They're fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters, people walking down the street, the seemingly helpful neighbor, even the person staring back at you when you look into a mirror.

I shut the door and walk up to the door, the slight creek the door has always made as I push it open.

It looks the same, just doesn't feel the same.

I kick the door shut with my foot, slipping from my jacket before tossing it on the stairs.

Why am I here?

Where else would I go, I guess is the better question.

I hardly have a job anymore. My apartment is a crime scene again. Evony's apartment is still a crime scene. Sitting in the hospital room with Evony isn't ideal considering here emotional, brick wall she's thrown up. I can't exactly show up at Karina's, and Andre is M.I.A.

Last resort I guess is a good enough reason to be here.

I move through the house to the kitchen, if memory serves right there should still be a beer or two. My mind drifting back to when I had Bo here.

Shaking off the memory I pull the fridge open, well I was right. I grab the last beer, and twist the cap off, the pain in my palm not enough to phase me.

Leaning against the counter I take a long drink, and then another. I stupidly wait for the pain to dull, but it's not. I'd need something a lot stronger to dull this quickly, honestly I'm sure I could find something around here somewhere, but I'm just not sure I want to rush toward alcoholism so soon.

I take another drink, turning to place on the counter just as I hear a creak back by the door. I find myself frozen, then laugh under my breath. I probably didn't close it completely. I walk back up to the door, but it's already closed, and locked.

Did I lock it?

I spin around toward the stairs, another creak coming from the second floor.

Then there's nothing.

I wait and wait and wait, but there is nothing.

Turning back around I look out the window next to the door, but still nothing. The street is as silent as the sidewalks. The driveway only cluttered by my car.

It's an old house Lauren, it's an old house.

I just stand by the door for a minute, maybe two waiting, but there is simply nothing.

Paranoia-or recently sharpened instinct?

I walk cautiously toward the garage door, my hand reaching for the handle once in arm's reach. My heart picking up with every step forward, fingertips touching the cool brass.

I jump, a loud pounding on the front door—then a creak.

I rush back to the door, freezing in place just ten feet from it.

"Bo."

"Relax," She says pushing the door closed. "I'm unarmed." She pulls off her jacket and tosses it atop of mine. "Frisk me if you don't believe me." She hold her arms up half way, gradually turning in a circle, my eyes running over her.

"How'd you find me?"

"I'm a detective and you aren't exactly a criminal mastermind."

"Thank you for that." I say softly, walking toward her. She reaches for my arm as go to passed, but I jerk away on reflex.

"Thanks for that."

"It wasn't intentional."

"I'm sure."

"It wasn't." I glare over my shoulder walking to the couch.

"Are we going to discuss this?"

"Discuss what?"

"Don't play this game Lauren, you bolted this morning. Went and picked up your car then vanished, before coming to hide here."

"Horrible hiding spot as it turns out."

"Again, not really a criminal mastermind."

"But you are?" I raise an eyebrow, staring up as her as she lingers in the doorway.

"They do say the best cops think like criminals." She smirks. "I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong."

"I'm not thinking anything."

"Bullshit." She takes a single step forward. "I saw the look in your eyes, the way you pulled away from me."

"I'm emotional damaged."

"Well that would be the understatement of the year, but not why you ran."

"Fine, you got me." I nod, forcing a smile as I look down to her shoes.

"It's not me Lauren."

"Well," I clap my hands together, looking back up to her. "That solves it then."

"Lauren," She says my name, demanding my attention as she walks over and takes a seat beside me. "I didn't do what you're thinking." I just stare into her eyes, heart pounding within my chest, but I stay perfectly still. "It would be an easy answer, something to wrap it all up neatly. It makes perfect sense, I have just as much motive as you."

"If this is your case to convince me I'm wrong, you're doing a horrible job."

"Lauren, it's not me." She sighs, reaching out and resting her hand on my knee. "I fell in love with you, I felt—feel responsible for you. I've dedicated my life to helping people. All this has done is drag good people down. All this has done is put you in harms way, hurt you. You're the one suffering the most. Why would I do it?"

"You said, before that you had done things you weren't proud of. That you went to a dark place."

"Jesus Lauren, that's what has you," She stops herself, shaking her head. "I mentioned to you, you knew-I made stupid decisions. Like experimenting and sleeping around and shutting people out. Not plotting a whole conspiracy."

"If it's not you-"

"It's not."

"IF it's not, then I'm out of ideas Bo." I sigh, eyes moving down to her hand. A slight wave of comfort coming over me.

"I'll talk to Hale, he mentioned combing back through the list of people that were in the bank. Taking a closer look at families, seeing if anyone would jump out."

"I've been over the list a dozen times with Dyson, no one ever rose a red flag."

"People can surprise you." She pulls her hand back, the other running through her hair. "I know you're drinking the Wallace Kool-Aid, but, my money is still on him."

"Bo."

"I know, I know you believe him, but I don't. The psycho shoe fits, plus there is means and motive. Not to mention he went to medical school."

"He didn't, at least he told me he didn't."

"Do you believe everything a psycho-narcissistic-murder tells you?" Her brow raising, this slight smirk tugging on her lips.

"Law school." Both me and Bo jump slightly, attention shooting up to the arch way, Lachlan leaning against the frame right at the bottom of the staircase. "It was law school Jason dabbled in, not medical school."

"Isn't he supposed to be in rehab?" Bo whispers, leaning against me.

"He apparently can come and go as he pleases." I sigh. "What are you doing here?"

"It is my house too."

"Lets not get into this, you know why I'm asking. If they find out you've been leaving, they're going to put you in jail."

"Lauren." Bo says.

"Evony won't be able to help you this time, and Dyson sure as hell won't be able to."

"Lauren." Bo repeats, this time I glance over at her.

"What?"

"It's amazing how she can be so smart, yet utterly stupid at the same time isn't it?" He laughs, eyes locked with Bo's. "She's always been this way. Our father would baby her, Andre too, she never learned."

"What am I missing?" I ask feeling stupid, looking between the two.

"You shouldn't have come."

"Lachlan?" I look over to my brother. "Why are you here?"

"It wasn't rocket science to figure out you'd come back here. You're a creature of habit, a hopeless romantic. Desperate for our past."

"It was you?" I can't help but to laugh. "Wow." I nod.

"Check." He smirks, hands going inside his pockets. "You never could win against me."

"How long?" I chuckle again, eyebrow raising. "Bryan?"

"Oh come on, give me a little more credit." He shifts his attention to Bo. "No, no. Sit back and relax, after me and my sister finish you can try and be the hero."

"This family is way too fucking competitive." Bo mumbles, but relaxes into her seat as I reach out and touch her leg.

"So, lets do it Lachlan. One last time, one last game."

"Oh Dearest Doctor, you still don't get it. We've been playing our last game, jury is in and you've lost."

"Well, at the risk of sounding cliché, what was the point? Just to outdo me? Punish me for putting you in rehab?"

"Wrong. Wrong. Wrong." He shakes his head. "Rehab was my play."

"You wanted to be put in rehab?" Bo snorts.

"Two weeks before I nearly overdosed. When I woke up, covered in my own filth, I swore I'd get clean and I did. Once the shit was out of my body, I saw things in a whole new light. I had a new purpose, one that trumped my need for a high." He smirks again. "I knew how you'd play it. Beg Dyson, beg Evony and off I'd go to rehab. Perfect deniability, perfect alibi, perfect way to vanish."

I let my eyes drop to his shoes, his words bouncing around my mind. I still don't get it. I don't get the point. Had he just lost his mind? Was this simply about showing me up in some form? Was it about hurting me? It made no sense. This wasn't the action of rage, when enraged you can't make plans that last months.

"Jason was a stupid fuck, been obsessed with you since he saw you on my phone back in law school. He wanted to play his little stalking game, his little notes and fetish deal. Almost killed him a few times myself with some of his choice words for what he wanted to do to you, but like most spoiled brats-they grow tired of their toys. When he did, I picked up for him. Needed the notes to keep coming, appear as if he was still stalking."

"It was you last night, following me?"

"Mmhm. I figured you act irrationally and head straight for him. Have another situation like Bryan or Taylor, but—"

"I took your knight."

"Oh yeah, for a minute I thought you had actually had me in risk of a check-mate. Then you gave me the perfect opportunity. I knew the pictures would push you into a corner, again was a little disappointed when you still didn't kill him, but I was prepared this time around. Even without killing him, I took your queen." He nods over to Bo. "I honestly predicted this," He waves his hand gesturing to both of us. "But again still worked out."

"So I guess the big question is, was I just a pawn to help you act out this-revenge plan?"

"Revenge?" He laughs. "Well see the thing is, the revenge plan as you chose to call it, isn't directed at who you think."

"It's about money." Bo chirps in.

"Money?" I look over at her, confused.

"It's always about the money, if not about love."

"There's no money."

"Actually gutter trash over there is right." He laughs. "It's always about the money."

"What money?" I start to finally pull my hand off of Bo's leg, but she grabs my wrist holding it in place.

"You remember when your beloved uncle died, dad got all of that money to take care of Andre and Karina."

"No—I guess." I remember them moving in, I remember money for the burial.

"When dad died, I got all of the paperwork, turns out that all of uncle's money was divided between Andre and Karina, but also you and me. Me being the oldest receiving the least, but you getting an equal share. Then I started looking closer at dad's paperwork and his estate was dissolved the exact same way. Now imagine my anger with trying to understand why my father and uncle would cheat me out of an equal share-but then this other thought dawned on me. Why would they dissolve their estates to include two children that weren't theirs?"

"Oh." Bo lets out, earning my confused look meant for my brother.

"See they may have loved me less, but they fucked up. I'm the oldest, I'm the lawyer. I see all the paperwork first, I know all the fine print."

"Dad and-" I trail off, looking back over to him.

"Keep up. End game was supposed to be me and you. I had it set up perfectly, Jason and all his friends would have paid for killing our father and traumatizing you because let's be honest, backdoor-pirate or not, still our father."

"I'm still-"

"Your father and uncle were partners in more ways than one." Bo says gently, but her eyes stay locked on him, grip firm on my wrist.

"I offered you help, several times Lauren. You shot me down every time and at the time I thought you had just jumped off the deep end, after all-Bryan?" He laughs, for a moment. "But then you go to see Andre. I see you two hanging all over each other, showing him to your knew slut of the month. Well, let me just say I snapped."

"Where is he?" I felt my heart fall to my stomach. "Lachlan, where is he?" My voice raising.

"See, what happened here was a tragic accident. Bo here was so fucked up over what happened she snapped, and you realizing it-rejecting her pushed her over the edge. Andre, needing to be the hero came rushing in to protect you and Bo kills him. You apparently being no stranger to self-defense react, there's this huge, huge fight, but sadly it still has a tragic end. Both of you dead."

"You'll still have to share the money with Karina, or is she magically popping up into this scenario too?"

"I told you Lauren, I was prepared to split the money two ways-swap your name with hers, doesn't matter. Liquidate that house, this house, yours and Andre's shares. Besides, I could always just marry her or kill her at a later date."

"You're out of your fucking mind." Bo laughs, I feel her leg moving as she lifts her foot so only the ball of her foot is pressing against the ground.

"Bet you wish you weren't so eager to prove you weren't the killer." His smirk grows, reaching behind his back and pulling out a silver plated, nine-millimeter.

"You think we're just gonna let you pose us? Play into your little murder fantasy?" I ask through a clenched jaw, tears filling my eyes.

"Lauren, I was a lawyer. A son of cop, and a brother to doctor who left her books everywhere. I've had months to read. I know how to stage a crime scene." He raises the gun at Bo.

Maybe if I lunge for him I'll get hit and she can tackle him.

"Lauren, I lied to you." She says, but I barely hear her. My eyes watching his finger starting to pull the trigger. "I'm not unarmed."

I hear her words and then her grip release my wrist.

I feel her throw herself behind me, hands on my waist as she does.

My own hand dropping to her ankle a pulling the six-shot revolver.

His own shot hitting couch before I do.

He goes for a second, but I manage to get one off.

I didn't think it would hit anything, but I get his left leg right above the knee.

He falls to his left knee, a scream of pain-but he brings his gun back up toward me and I don't think.

I fire twice into his shoulder, his gun falling from his hand to the floor as he falls over.

Not thinking I drop the gun, praying that Bo will take over for me just I had done for her.

"Andre?!" I yell jumping over Lachlan. "Andre?!" I run toward the garage pushing the door open. Darkness and Lachlan's car. I run down the four steps, pulling the driver's side door open. Nothing. I glance into the back seat. Nothing. Popping the trunk I move to the back, but nothing. "Andre?!" I call for him running back into the house.

"Anything?" Bo asks, kneeling over Lachlan, applying pressure to his shoulder.

"Andre?!" I call again and again, running up the stairs.

I push open door after door, to find nothing.

Then I push open the bathroom door and feel my heart stop.

"I found him!" I yell down to Bo, rushing beside the bathtub where he's stuffed into. His head on the ledge, blood dripping from his temple, down the porcelain to the floor. His hands and feet bound with torn pieces of sheet. "Dre." I cry his name, hands holding his face. "Wake up." I feel for a pulse, it's there, but weak. "Wake up. Please wake up." I beg, shaking him with my left hand as the right holds his face.

I can't lose him too.

I can't.


	15. Epilogue

_**A.N. **_Hey there all, just wanted to take a second and apologize for the two long breaks that came in this story. Also say thank you to everyone who read, favorite, followed, and special thanks to all those who reviewed. I do read each and every one and take them into account. I've been paying close attention, and all comments will be taken into further account when moving into next story. I know this wasn't classic Pokie, aka Dark and Fae, but hope you all enjoyed.

Special thanks to none other than InevitablyWicked19 for PRing several chaps, making sure I kept on track and all the other things you do that go without mention.

Pokie.

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_**Epilogue **_

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_**3 Months Later**_

"Hey dad," I say softly, staring down at his grave. A cool breeze coming just as I do, something which brings a small smile to my lips. It's almost like a sign he can hear me, a sign he's here. "I know you've been watching, so I know there's some things I've done that you aren't proud of, but I would also like to think I've done some things you are."

I kneel down, running my hand over the letters of his name.

"I still don't know why you didn't tell me. I mean, me of all people would understand. I wouldn't have been mad." Fingers dropping to the date. "I guess it was just hard. I can understand that."

I bring myself back to my feet just as another breeze comes to pass.

"Safe to approach?" I hear Bo ask, her arms wrapping around my waist.

"When you gonna learn, she likes take charge." Andre laughs, a sound of a smack and then a groan following. I look back to see him rubbing his chest, Karina smirking at me.

I just smile back at them as they begin to bicker about something, and it's the strangest thing, but this image of them as kids jumps to the forefront of my mind.

As it turned out, they apparently always knew about my father and theirs'. I guess I was the only slow one, then again I was so busy being pissed at the world that I just let it pass me by.

It's amazing how much you can accomplish when you actually put in the effort.

Example, me and Evony are actually trying this crazy thing called friendship. She sucks at it-but so do I, so it's perfect. With my recent inheritance her, Vex and myself have even invested in a new endeavor together.

It might not be the most sound decision, but it was one that made me happy.

Another example, I've finally patched things up with Karina and Andre. Surprisingly after the three horrible, knockout-drag around fights, everything was like before. Inside jokes and immaturity at a surprising level for three people in their thirties.

I even managed to get a new job, again with the help of Evony's firm, but it's different now. A new start, and a deal beneficial to all parties involved. It's been scary, a lack of sound security, a whole new hospital and staff, but a fresh start none the less.

I look back down at my father's grave, then to Bo who's smiling at me gently.

Most of all though, the scariest start was with Bo.

She offered me to stay with her until I got everything settled, much to Kenzi and Hale's dread, but I opted to keep my family home.

Maybe if Lachlan had died rather than just ended up in jail my decision would have been different, but the damage he did and bloodstains is nothing a little remodeling didn't take care of.

We've both moved on-together.

We tried to keep the pace of our relationship and found quickly it wouldn't work, but then the sexy genius she can be at times proposed we start over.

It's worked wonders, two months to the date.

"Are you okay?" She whispers in my ear, holding me tight.

"Yeah, I am." I lean my head against hers.

For the first time in a really long time, I was genuinely okay.

For the first time since my father was alive, I had something.

Hope.


End file.
